


Sanguimancy

by ReginaMangala



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Al also speaks kouri-vini, Alastor Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Speaks French (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Dust-Typical Sexual Content (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Bittersweet Ending, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon? Where We're Going We Don't Need Canon, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Humans in Hell (Hazbin Hotel), Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I did way too much research for this, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, JUST KISS ALREADY, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lucifer is Hell's Weirdest Wingman, Magic, Manipulation, Multi, Music as a Plot Device, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, Mythology References, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Rating May Change, Relationship(s), Rituals, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Trope Alert: Death and the Maiden, Unreliable Narrator, Updates on Tuesdays, Violence, flirtation as a form of psychological warfare, i'm dr frankenstein and this is my monster, in this house we love and respect asexuals and the wider ace spectrum, in which i cannibalize and make reference to other much better non-ff works, maybe eventual smut???? depends on what y'all want as the story continues, no beta we die like men, self-indulgent nonsense, self-sabotage self-doubt self-discovery we got it all, so watch me try to teach myself an endangered language, some kinky shit later on if ya squint, this is gonna be a long one folks so strap tf in, using a handful of grammar websites and a dictionary from 1998, watch me pull an entire magic system out of my ass, why? because I'm insane thats why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 33
Words: 97,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReginaMangala/pseuds/ReginaMangala
Summary: "You wound me, darling! I’ve given you no reason to be afraid of me!”“I’m not afraid of you, I’mpissed off.”His grin widened. “Oh, yes you are. I can smell it.” He stepped closer, and she scurried back. “Though I suppose I can’t blame you. A poor dame spirited away to the underworld; a true Persephone trapped in such a perilous predicament. Who wouldn’t be shaking in their boots?”A series of accidents, both cosmic and mundane, cause a coma patient’s spirit to be sent to Hell by mistake. Helpless, alone, and with a target on her back, she manages to find refuge in the care of a peculiarly kind demoness, hidden away from all those who might seek to harm her.All, that is, but one man, a dealmaker who will seemingly stop at nothing to harness the power in her veins for himself. As sinister forces threaten the fate of her immortal soul, it’s a race against time to return to the land of the living before her family pulls the plug.Eventual OCxCanon/ReaderxCanon, Enemies to Friends to LoversON HIATUS until 4/20/21 (Author in hospital)Act 1: Cadere (Ch. 1-33, Complete)Act 2: Minuo (Ch. 34-?, Ongoing)Act 3: AdsurgereEpilogue: Kismet
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Character(s), Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader, Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 525
Kudos: 552





	1. Retail is Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my first published fic! I haven't written anything not school or work-related for years, but quarantine has broken me and this idea has been knocking around in my head since July. 
> 
> I obviously don't own anything in here except the plot and my OC. :)
> 
> A few notes before we get started:
> 
> 1\. I understand that some readers like to put themselves in the shoes of the main character when reading, and as a result I have kept physical descriptions of my OC, nicknamed Lee, to a minimum, and tagged this as OC/Canon as well as Canon/Reader (many because (y/n) is a pet peeve of mine and writing in second person feels awk to me). Feel free to treat this like a reader-insert fic or simply imagine her however you like!
> 
> 2\. At time of writing (Oct 2020), limited information regarding the characters is available. As a result, this story contains lots of headcanons and will inevitably diverge from canon, though I will endeavor to keep everyone in character to the best of my ability. I’ll probably fail though, so have mercy on me in the comments LOL
> 
> 3\. This story is not for kids. There will be explicit depictions of blood and gore, violence, sexual content and innuendo, and reference to topics such as murder, abusive relationships, drugs, alcohol, sexual assault, and sex work. If you are uncomfortable with any of these topics, do not read this story.
> 
> More specific content warnings/disclaimers will be posted when needed. Tags will inevitably change, rating might too, depending on reader feedback.
> 
> Constructive criticism welcome, enjoy the ride!

If there was such a thing as Hell, Lee supposed it would be similar to this. Well into the sixth hour of an eight-hour shift at Books-A-Zillion, she again tried gently explaining to the irate woman in front of her that her 15% off coupon could not be applied on top of her buy-one-get-one-free voucher.

“Is this what you call customer service? I’d like to speak to your manager, _now_ ,” the woman demanded, drumming her manicured nails against the counter in annoyance. Lee sighed internally, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the two customers behind her in line. Of all the New Yorkers she had encountered, rich Brooklyn moms were the some of the worst.

“One moment please, ma’am,” she said, happy for the opportunity to escape her icy glare. Slipping out from behind the register, she paced the labyrinthine aisles of the bookstore until she found her manager, Tanya, restocking the magazine section.

“Hey Tanya, I have a customer who needs to speak with you. Wants to know why we can’t double-up her coupon and BOGO voucher.”

“Damn Karens,” Tanya huffed. “Alright, I’ll go take care of it, finish stocking these in the meantime, will you?” she said, handing her a stack of magazines. When Lee returned to her register a few minutes later, she was relieved to see the harpy had left.

 _Crisis averted_ , she thought, returning to her register.

Thankfully, the other customers she served that day were halfway decent, giving her a bit of a reprieve. While working retail wasn’t exactly high on her list of dream jobs, she supposed it was better than nothing. Despite the protests from her aching feet, she knew she was better off than most, what with the economy in the toilet and all.

 _It’s just a bump in the road_ , she tried to tell herself.

At least she was bringing in a little income, even if it was barely enough for her portion of the rent and groceries. She hadn’t bothered trying to save some money for gifts for the upcoming holidays, and given the bare state of her pantry, she figured she would get everyone $2 Hallmark cards this year. After all, it’s the thought that counts, right? Still, shame trickled through her, acidic and biting, pouring into the dark ocean of melancholy that haunted her more and more frequently these days.

Her thoughts were interrupted by someone calling her name, her _real_ name.

“Hello? Space cadet? It’s 2:45, you can balance your drawer and clock out,” her co-worker Brian said with a smirk.

“Oh, thanks. Sorry, my mind was somewhere else for a minute,” she muttered, grabbing the “Register Closed” sign from below the counter and beginning to count up her drawer.

While she didn’t mind her real name, she only ever used it in professional settings. To everyone else, she was Lee, a nickname spawned from her kindergarten obsession with the Bruce Lee action movies her father was so fond of. Her parents would laugh at the way their “Little Lee” would prance around the house punching and kicking her invisible enemies, towel tied around her head like a bandanna, and the nickname stuck.

After clocking out, she grabbed her bag from the employee lockers and dipped into the bathroom to change. Her heart fluttered with anticipation. For months her inbox had been clogged with rejection emails and her follow-up calls had been ignored, but her luck had recently changed: a prestigious company across town had been forwarded her resumé and wanted to schedule an interview. The only trouble was she had scheduled the interview for 4 o’clock this afternoon, and Tanya had unexpectedly called her in today to cover a sick co-workers shift.

She fixed her hair in the cracked mirror, smearing on a fresh coat of lipstick and adjusting her blazer. If she wanted to make it on time, she’d have to book it, and she couldn’t afford to screw this up by arriving late. When she had graduated from college five months earlier, she had been hoping to find an entry level position in her field and start rising through the ranks, but her hopes had quickly been dashed by the ruthless competition she faced from thousands of equally if not more qualified new grads. She said a silent prayer to whatever deities might be listening that luck would be on her side and she wouldn’t be stuck taking tongue-lashings from rich yuppies for much longer.

While she would have preferred to catch a cab, such luxuries were for people with money and free time, and lately traffic had been brutal. Ignoring the protests of her sore feet in their too-tight shoes, she power-walked to the subway station, hoping to catch the 3pm train downtown. Melting into the crowd of commuters, she weaved her way through the throngs of businessmen, socialites, and regular working stiffs, the familiar scents of pollution, perfume and possibility filling her lungs. Even now, she was surprised with how well she had adjusted to urban life, although it did feel isolating at times.

Alone in the superorganism of the city, she had done her best to branch out and find new hobbies: painting classes, Jazzercise, and even goat yoga in Central Park (which resulted in one of her favorite shirts being torn by an overenthusiastic young goat named Mister Woolsworth). But despite the activities themselves being fun, it was the people around her that she always had a hard time connecting with. Even her roommates, though cordial, seemed to ignore her most of the time. It wasn’t like they were jerks or anything, they were just…busy. Their lives seemed too full to add a chronically underemployed newbie to their roster of drinking buddies, and they weren’t exactly eager to try to make room. They had even been making plans the other day about which bars they were going to hit up on Halloween, and they didn’t even think to ask if she’d like to come.

She glanced at her phone as she stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the signal. Her group chat was filled with messages of encouragement from friends back home, as well as a few links to articles on acing job interviews. Thank God for social media, otherwise she would have moved back home months ago, job prospects be damned. While she liked to pride herself on trying to be independent, in truth she found herself needing more and more support these days, and their well wishes, despite the physical distance between them, were about all that was keeping her sane. Still, one can only keep going on hope for so long, and the idea that she could be confined to a string of boring, minimum-wage jobs for the rest of her life weighed heavy on her conscience.

She was halfway through typing out a thank you message when a new picture popped up on her screen: a white candle surrounded by flowers and crystals.

“Said some prayers and made an offering for you <3” read the message accompanying the photo.

A smile crept across her face. Her best friend Talia had gotten into witchcraft and other spiritual pursuits over the past two years and would always call on higher powers for advice and a bit of extra luck for anyone who needed it. The budding mystic had offered to do a tarot reading to ask the spirits how her interview would turn out, but Lee had turned her down. She wasn’t sure how much she believed in the benevolent forces her friend claimed to tap into, but her policy towards the supernatural had always followed the vein of “it’s probably all bullshit, but don’t mess with it just in case.”

Eyes still glued to her phone, she started to cross the street as she heard the “walk” signal ring out, tapping out her reply.

She didn’t notice the car cutting through the crosswalk straight towards her.


	2. Limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cosmic mix-up traps our heroine's soul in a strange realm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, folks!

Impact.

Red on the ground.

A dull, distant pain in her head.

Sirens, flashing lights. Being shifted, lifted onto…something.

The ground was moving, _she_ was moving. A man’s voice telling her to try to stay awake. But she was so tired _,_ and now the pain was less of a dull ache and more of a persistent burn in her arm, her ribs, her head.

Open doors.

Buzzing fluorescent lights.

The sensation of being pushed forwards.

People dressed in blue moving around her, blurry and frantic.

Pain, sharp and consuming, from her side. Her arm felt like it was on fire. Someone was shoving some sort of long tube down her throat and it _hurt_ , but she couldn’t form words, couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. They were saying something, but she couldn’t make sense of it, it all sounded garbled and far away. It was all so much, too much. What had happened to her? What had happened to her body?

And then she was looking _at_ her body, as if she was stuck to the ceiling. Blood plastered her hair to her face. Her features were distorted, swollen, barely recognizable. One of the nurses cut open the sleeve of her blazer, revealing a jagged bone jutting out of her arm, and she felt sick. Lee tried to move, to close her eyes but she couldn’t; it was as if she didn’t have eyes to close.

Below her, doctors and nurses raced around the trauma bay, grabbing gauze and wires and what looked like a bag full of blood. The bed next to her mangled body was just as busy, with nurses performing CPR on a bald man whose left leg was nothing but a bloody stump. She felt a pang of sympathy for him, which quickly disappeared as the nurse moved away, revealing a swastika tattoo on his chest.

“She’s coding!” one of the nurses called out as the heart rate monitor next to her body change from recording a jagged pulse to a flat, continuous line, it’s monotone alarm mixing with the sounds of shuffling feet and barked orders. A man in a white coat grabbed what she recognized as a defibrillator, rubbing the charging pads together.

“3, 2, 1, clear!” The man pressed the pads to her chest and the pain was back, sharp and all-consuming, coursing through her like lightning.

There was nothing.

Darkness surrounded her as she floated in an endless void. At least, she assumed she was floating, she was having trouble figuring out what was up and what was down. She tried raising her arm to feel something, anything. Icy dread filled her as she realized she didn’t _have_ an arm.

She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out, no muscles engaged to force open her jaw and push air through her throat. Panicked thoughts flooded through her, a stream of curses and unanswerable questions, all culminating in a sense of inescapable _wrongness_. Something deep and primal told her she shouldn’t be here.

Bodiless, formless, she drifted in an endless sea of night. Occasionally she would hear the wheeze of machinery or the beep of a heartrate monitor, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. There was conversation too, but she could only make out a few words.

“…traumatic brain injury…”

“…medically induced coma…”

“…prognosis unclear…”

How long had she been floating in this deep dark nothing? Seconds, hours, days? It appeared in addition to being without a body, she now had no sense of time.

Was this death? She supposed it was possible. But there were no pearly gates, no Saint Peter to welcome her soul, no fire and brimstone, no otherworldly court of spirits ready to decide her fate. Just her.

The snippets of conversation and noise she could hear became less and less frequent. She didn’t know what was happening, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped, despite the vast expanse surrounding her.

Her initial terror gradually faded into anxiousness. Maybe there would be another shock, another jolt of pain and she would be back in her body again. Or perhaps the dark would give way to light, warm and calming, as she was whisked away to whatever the afterlife had in store for her. She might be reincarnated into a new body, stripped of all her memories and pulled screaming from her new mother’s womb to start the cycle of life and death anew. All she knew is she wanted something, _anything_ to free her from this pit.

There was a change in the air, and she was overcome with the sensation of being watched, of being judged. Even though the void around her still looked empty, she knew she was no longer by herself. She felt totally exposed, inside and out, like a tiny creature under the microscope of some unknowable being.

 _I want to live_ , Lee thought, hoping whatever forces were examining her would hear her plea and have mercy on her. No voice answered her, but at the edges of her perception she could almost hear whispers, as if confused spirits were locked in a contentious debate.

But then it stopped, and she was totally and utterly alone again. Had her fate been decided? What happened now?

And then she was falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed Chapters 1 and 2! A few more disclaimers before we move on:
> 
> 1\. This story will feature magic and rituals. The rituals may take some inspiration from real-world practices (ex: salt used to ward off demons) but are mostly made up and divorced from any real-world religions, as to not offend the practitioners of these faiths.
> 
> 2\. Scenes in this story will reference themes, figures and practices from several real-world religions, including Vodou, a religion practiced mainly in Haiti, and Louisiana Voodoo. Unfortunately, since it is practiced mainly by members of the African diaspora, Vodou and its variants have long been demonized by outsiders as evil or demonic due to racism, when in reality it is a beautiful, powerful, closed religion whose practitioners and practices deserve our utmost respect. As a result, I have decided to make minimal references to figures and practices within the faith, and to portray the faith in a positive light when it is referenced. As a non-practitioner I have done my best to research the faith and read articles written by real-world vodouisants, manbos and oungans. I would much rather not portray a practice than portray a practice inaccurately or in a disrespectful manner!
> 
> 3\. Scenes in this story will reference real world events, tragedies and social issues, such as racism, homophobia, and classism. I will endeavor to present these topics and events as tactfully as possible. 
> 
> Now, onwards into Hell! It's a long way down, after all...


	3. Descension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plunged into the depths of Hell, Lee finds herself in a strange and horrifying new world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're off! How will our protagonist deal with this tragic turn of events? Will she meet anyone who can help? Find out below...

Down, down, down through the dark she fell, arms and legs flailing wildly as her dread gave way to pure terror. She screamed, but she was falling so fast that the sound was drowned out by the wind whipping by her ears.

Below her she could see clouds, tinged red and ominous. Lightning crackled around her as she plummeted through them, skin charged with electricity. Drops of moisture enveloped her, stinging her eyes as she passed through the suspended rain. The clouds parted as a cityscape approached, and the artificial lights burned into her retinas as she was pulled closer and closer. She tried to look, tried to face her inevitable doom with some shred of dignity, but it was all too much, and her eyes screwed shut in fear.

But instead of becoming a human pancake, she hit the ground with a soft thud, bouncing once on the concrete.

She sucked in a breath, trying to get used to the sensation of having a body again after so many days…years? One eye cracked open, then another. Pebbles, trash, and broken glass greeted her. Twitching her fingers experimentally, she didn’t appear to have been paralyzed or otherwise grievously injured from her fall, much to her surprise. Legs shaking, she got to her feet, dusting off the hospital gown she found herself wearing. That’s right, she had been in a hospital, hadn’t she? She vaguely recalled sirens, the sickly glow of fluorescent lights, the sharp pain of the defibrillator.

Was she dead? She certainly didn’t _feel_ dead. She appeared to still have all her fingers and toes, and her skin lacked the dull pallor of a corpse. A cockroach scuttled by her feet and she instinctively took a step backwards, disgusted. Where was she?

She stood in the center of some sort of abandoned lot, filled with debris and scrubby black grass breaking through the cracked concrete. A tall, rusty chain-link fence separated her from an abandoned street, and the buildings looked as though they had been bombed out, with entire floors exposed. It was like standing in the middle of a war zone.

On the mostly intact brick wall in front of her, a giant, tattered poster bore a depiction of some sort of man…spider… _thing_ flashing the camera two thumbs up on what appeared to be two sets of arms. The writing was faded, but she could make out the words, “Angel Dust in: ‘Well…Ok!’” with an 18+ symbol plastered under it. She realized with disgust that the spider was surrounded by what appeared to be male genitalia, in an inhuman range of colors, sizes and shapes, and looked away, feeling both disturbed and perplexed.

Her gaze turned to the maroon sky above her, entirely covered in clouds and glowing dimly from the light of the moon. Well, not _the_ moon, but _a_ moon, a dark celestial body with what appeared to be a giant, glowing pentagram etched into it. The sight sent a shock through her. No. _No_. It couldn’t be. But all the pieces fit: the fall, the rubble, the ominous skies.

She was in Hell. Holy _shit_ she was in _Hell._

Lee’s chest felt tight as she fell to her knees, shaking and breathing hard _._ Her vision blurred as she felt tears spill down her cheeks. Why was she here? What had she done to deserve this? Sure, she was stubborn as a mule, she cursed like a sailor, and yes, when she was seven she did steal a chap stick from the grocery store. But that _surely_ wasn’t enough to condemn her to eternal damnation, was it?! She never killed anyone, never did hard drugs, hell she’d never even gotten a speeding ticket! Was the afterlife really so punitive?

The sound of a car, far away but still audible, was the first indication she might not be alone. The thought didn’t bring her any comfort; if anything, it made her aware of just how exposed she was. She got to her feet, tense, ready to run if she needed to. But there was no one there. Regardless, she knew she had to hide. If this really was Hell, that meant there could be all manner of demons and devils prowling about, eager to rip her limb from limb.

Careful not to step on any broken glass, she made her way over to the chain-link fence, only to find the gate shut tight and padlocked for good measure. Not wanting to risk climbing the fence lest she attract unwanted attention, she found the only way out of the lot was through a back alley shrouded in darkness.

 _If this were a horror movie, I would be screaming at myself right now_ , she thought, picking her way through the rubble and into the alley.

Thankfully there was no monster lurking in the dark, just a few dumpsters and piles of junk. She had almost reached the end of the alley when she heard footsteps, and her hair stood on end. Fight or flight kicked in and she ducked behind one of the dumpsters, trying not to gag from the rancid smell. The footsteps got louder and closer until finally, mercifully fading away into silence. But she didn’t dare move. Instead she crouched there, trying to make herself as small as possible, until the muscles in her legs burned in protest and she tentatively peeked out from her hiding spot.

Something fell on the back of her neck and she yelped, head jerking upward, expecting to see the open maw of some monster but finding nothing but dark skies above. Another drop fell, then another. She held her hand out and a few more fat droplets found their resting place against her skin. Rain. She didn’t know it rained in Hell.

The rain began to fall faster, and she searched for some sort of cover. The only thing she found was a shredded plastic tarp, which she wrapped around herself as best she could as she settled back into her hiding spot behind the dumpster. Despite her best efforts, she was soon soaked to the bone. Terrified and cold, the tears returned again, their warmth on her face the only comfort to be found in this godforsaken place. She shivered and shook as she held the tarp close to her skin, trying to conserve any ounce of body heat she could.

 _I thought Hell was supposed to be hot_ , she thought miserably. Though, she supposed she should be grateful she wasn’t burning alive in a pit filled with other sinners being poked at with pitchforks.

She sat there for hours, frantically trying to piece together why she was here and what she had done to deserve this, until the haphazard drumming sound of the rain on the asphalt slowed, replaced instead by the sounds of voices and the familiar hustle and bustle of city life. The sky, while still cloudy, seemed to lighten, taking on more of a reddish hue as the denizens of Hell emerged, ready for a new day filled with scheming, stealing and screwing each other over. Lee strained to listen, catching snippets of conversation in English as well as other languages she couldn’t place, punctuated by some disturbing growling and snarling.

Two voices in particular stood out, and they seemed to be arguing. She poked her head out from the dumpster to see two… _things_ at the end of the alley. One appeared mostly humanoid except for its head, which resembled that of a lion. The other was completely unrecognizable: a red, insect-like creature with two sets of arms and a wriggling mass of tentacles instead of legs. They were shouting at each other in a language Lee couldn’t place.

The lion lunged at the insect, and the two creatures began to beat each other savagely, pulling hair and knocking out teeth as they crashed against the walls of the alley. A sharp blow sent the lion staggering forwards, his wallet falling from his jacket pocket. The brutality of the sight made her stomach drop, but no one tried to intervene. Instead, she could hear hoots of encouragement from some passersby that had stopped to watch the show.

The fight came to a swift end when two right hooks to the jaw made the lion collapse backwards, knocking him…it? unconscious. The insect thing spit on its foe and slithered away, a triumphant smile showing far too many teeth on its face. After the onlookers had dispersed, Lee crept from her hiding spot, tarp still wrapped around her like a shield. Stepping around puddles of filthy rainwater, she made her way towards the man-lion-thing, or rather, his wallet. She picked it up gingerly, keeping one eye on its unconscious owner, and flipped it open, finding an ID, some plastic credit cards, and a few bills stamped with the portrait of a smiling clown-like creature and the phrase “In God We Thrust.”

As if on cue, her stomach growled. She was starving, wet and miserable, and here a potential solution to at least some of her problems had fallen right into her lap. Was this some sort of test? A trick? She knew she shouldn’t take it, but the idea of spending another night wet and starving behind a dumpster was unacceptable.

 _This is Hell_ , she thought to herself, _and even if it wasn’t, stuff gets stolen all the time. Plus, stealing is probably encouraged here anyway._ Still, there was a sharp pang of guilt as she grabbed the cash, dropping the wallet at the feet of its rightful owner. She considered taking his shoes too, given that she was still barefoot, but a groan from the lion demon sent her scurrying out the alley and into the street.

Even though its residents were dead, the streets of Hell were certainly alive. Cars cruised down the cracked streets as crowds of creatures stalked, slithered and otherwise ambled down the sidewalk, ranging in looks from mostly human to nightmarish. It was as if H. P. Lovecraft and a furry convention had a disgusting, mutant baby. Some didn’t look like they should be alive at all, resembling objects with arms and legs or cartoonish caricatures of real creatures. They wore everything from togas and tunics to ripped jeans and what could charitably be described as miniskirts. Some, mortifyingly, wore nothing at all, though it didn’t seem to bother anyone. Above them, stores and signs advertised mundane household goods as well as services that sounded wildly illegal in any other context. The air was smoggy and smelled ever so slightly of sulfur.

“Watch it, pipsqueak!” A giant snake demon hissed down at her, shoving her out of its way. She turned tail and ran, weaving her way through the crowds of the damned, not wanting to end up pulverized. As she walked, cash clutched tight in her fist, she scanned the crowds for anyone else who looked, well, _alive_. But even the most humanoid creatures had mottled grey or green skin, or the wrong number of eyes, or some sort of horns jutting out of their heads. She realized with a shiver that to them, _she_ was probably the strange looking one, and she wrapped her trusty tarp around her head like a cloak, trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible.

As she walked the size of the crowds grew, until the street she had been wandering on spat her out into some sort of main square. At its center was a giant clock tower covered in spikes, with the phrase “Next Cleanse 156 Days” in huge letters near the top. The bottom of the tower was plastered with posters and graffiti, along with a few bulletin boards crammed full of papers. She drew closer, curious.

“Construction workers wanted. Multiple arms and/or wings preferred…”

“Lilith: Live in Concert at the Pentadome…”

“Beware the Radio Demon!”

“Special Offer from 3V Media…”

“Want to get out of Hell?”

Well, now that could be promising! She ripped the flyer free of the board.

“At the Hazbin Hotel, we specialize in the rehabilitation of sinners through a mixture of therapy, community service and self-reflection. Our trained staff will assist you during your redemption process as...” It went on for a bit about the importance of atonement for one’s sins, and the possibility of leaving Hell behind for a new life in Heaven. Her shoulders drooped in disappointment: she didn’t want to go to Heaven, she wanted to go _home_. However, the “FREE FOOD” in bold letters at the bottom of the poster made her think it was worth stopping by at least.

The back of the flyer bore a map with directions, as well as several cutesy drawings of demons with halos and angel wings. The prospect of a free meal as well as the opportunity to rent a room for the night already sounded like Heaven to Lee.

_Well, here goes nothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could possibly go wrong?


	4. Checking In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroine finds her way to the famous Hazbin Hotel. Will it be a place of refuge? Or a disaster waiting to happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we meet the rest of our cast! Most of them, anyway. And it only took ~4,000 words...

It turned out the map had been a little bit optimistic about the distance from the clock tower to the hotel, as by the time the lights of the Hazbin Hotel were visible on the horizon, the red clouds above her had begun to darken again. It also didn’t help that she had gotten lost twice after having to take detours around streets completely buried in rubble and debris. Had there been a war of some sort? She didn’t know, but it was clear cleaning up, let alone having visible street signs, was not a priority for whoever was in charge of Hell’s infrastructure.

The hotel itself was a towering mess of different architectural styles, with balconies and towers and even part of an ocean liner jutting out of it at odd angles. At its front was a canopy that resembled a circus tent, where a tattered welcome banner fluttered in the breeze. The doors were incredibly tall, at least ten feet, with stained-glass windows inlaid with apples. She gripped the brass knob and opened the door slowly, peeking inside.

It was without a doubt a hotel lobby, but not like one she’d ever seen before. On one side of the there was a sitting area, with furniture adorned with spikes surrounding a crackling fireplace. Portraits of what she could only assume were Hell’s rich and famous hung on the walls, their frames decorated with eyes that she swore she saw move. The other side of the lobby looked closer to a casino, with tables along the back wall and neon signs advertising blackjack and poker games. Surprisingly, there was nobody at the front desk. There was, however, a fully stocked bar with some furry looking thing slumped behind it.

She padded across the lobby towards the sleeping creature, the rich carpet muffling her steps. Upon closer inspection it looked much like an overgrown cat, with the exception of the pair of wings folded against its back. A top hat lay on its side next to the snoring creature, who was out cold. She glanced around, looking for anyone else who could help her, but the lobby was otherwise deserted.

“Umm…excuse me?” she said. The creature didn’t stir. “Pardon me?”

The creature mumbled something and shifted, but did not rise. She reached out with a trembling hand and tapped it on the shoulder.

The effect was immediate. The creature sat up with a jolt, curses falling from its lips. Its voice was gruff, so she assumed it was probably male. He blinked once, twice, and settled his gaze on her. She could only imagine how out of place she looked, wrapped in a tarp and smelling like mildew and garbage.

“The fuck do you want?” he asked, his sleepy expression turning sour.

_So much for customer service,_ she thought. “Uh, yes, hi, I was wondering if you knew where the front desk manager was?”

“You’re lookin’ at ‘em, kid.”

“Oh. Um, in that case, I’d like to rent a room if you have any available.” She placed her wad of ill-gotten greenbacks on the bar.

He looked at her as if she was speaking in tongues. His eyes darted from her, to the money, and back to her again, before he snatched up the cash.

“Yeah, we got a room,” he grumbled. He reached for an old-fashioned phone behind the bar, punching in numbers and occasionally stealing a sidelong glance at her. “Hey Charlie, we got one.”

An audible squeal came from the phone, which he slammed back down on the receiver. She could hear the sound of a door being kicked open, and rapid footsteps on the floor above her.

“Welcome!” A chipper voice screeched. She turned to see a woman dressed in a suit bounding down the grand staircase towards her. If it weren’t for her bone-white complexion and the ventriloquist doll markings on her face, she could almost have mistaken her for a human. The tall woman rushed forwards, shaking her hand so hard she felt like her arm was going to fall off.

“ThankyousomuchforchoosingtocheckintotheHazbinHotelwhereserviceis—” The words tumbled out of her like a river.

“You’re welcome,” Lee said, taking a step back. The woman stopped chattering at once, and leaned forward, as if to inspect her.

“Oh, a late bloomer! You must have just gotten here, huh?” she said, voice filled with concern as she tugged the tarp from Lee’s head. “It’s a good thing you came here right away. You shouldn’t be out looking like this.”

Lee had no idea what the woman was talking about and was about to ask when she heard another voice call out.

“We actually have a customer?” a gray-skinned woman with long white hair said as she descended the stairs. She, too, looked mostly human, and sported an eyepatch with a large X covering her left eye.

“I know, isn’t it great?!” The blonde replied. “And she’s a new arrival, too!”

The gray woman’s eye narrowed. “I see,” she said in a measured voice. “She doesn’t look—"

“Vaggie!” the blonde woman said in a warning tone. “She’s a guest and we’re _happy_ to have her.”

Lee cleared her throat.

“Your front desk manager,” she gestured back to the cat creature, who was now chugging a bottle of liquor, “said you had a room available for the night.”

“We certainly do! Lots of rooms, in fact!” The blonde smiled, revealing pearly white teeth and a pair of wicked looking fangs. “We can get you settled for the evening, and in the morning we can discuss your treatment plan.”

_Treatment plan?_

“I’m Charlie, manager and co-owner. You’re going to _love_ it here!” she continued. “We’ll have you all cleaned up and Heaven-bound in no time! But first, you must be starving!” Lee’s stomach grumbled as if in agreement. Charlie laughed. “We’ll be serving dinner in about an hour, and afterwards we’ll get you checked in to your room.”

The one-eyed woman, _Vaggie_ , Lee assumed, put her hand on her shoulder. “Can I talk to you in private real quick, hon?” she asked, still eyeing Lee with suspicion. Charlie excused herself with a sheepish grin, and the two women retreated to the sitting area by the fire. Lee sat down on one of the barstools.

“Hey kid.” She turned to see the cat holding a glass filled with some sort of amber liquid. “Wanna drink?”

She took the glass from his dangerous looking claws, taking a small sip. Immediately she coughed and sputtered. It felt like her mouth and throat were on fire.

The cat laughed. “What’s the matter, can’t hold yer liquor?”

“That’s not liquor," she said hoarsely, “that’s gotta be gasoline or something.”

“Hey, this is some primo shit! Can’t get stuff like this up top.”

“I’m fuckin starving!” an accented voice called out. Lee’s eyes fell on a familiar looking spider-thing ambling down the stairs, dressed all in pink and whining like a toddler. “Is it dinner time yet?”

“Soon, Angel! Remember, patience is a virtue!” Charlie called from her place on the couch, where she and Vaggie appeared to have been engaged in tense conversation. The spider sauntered up to the bar and snatched Lee’s drink, downing it in one gulp. He was tall, at least eight feet, and looked surprisingly fluffy. He glanced down at her.

“You look like shit.”

She brushed off the insult. “I know you. You’re Angel Dust, right?” He narrowed his mismatched eyes at her and smiled, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

“A fan, huh?” he purred, tone changing from irritated to intrigued. “Well, I normally charge extra for girls…“ One pair of arms wrapped around her waist, while another arm grabbed her chin. “but I’ll give you my usual rate, just this once.”

“NO! Nope, no, uh, thank you, not interested.” Lee felt herself turning bright red as she wiggled out of his grasp. His smile fell.

“Your loss, toots.” He rolled his eyes. “Gimme another, handsome.” The bartender muttered something akin to “up yours” under his breath as he poured another drink for the flirtatious man, then drank straight from the bottle.

“Why do you look like that anyway?” the spider asked with mild interest.

“Like what? Like shit? I spent most of last night hiding behind a dumpster, scared out of my mind.”

“No, like a _human_.”

“I don’t know, honestly. Am I not _supposed_ to look human?”

“Hell no! You’re fuckin' lucky you made it here without gettin’ eaten alive.” he said with a laugh.

Her stomach dropped. It seemed as though her initial fears of being devoured by demons weren’t as far off as she had hoped. She glanced over at Charlie and Vaggie, who appeared to still be debating something in hushed tones. Hopefully she’d be allowed to stay the night and not be thrown to the wolves.

“Can I have some water, please?” she asked the bartender. He blinked at her, as though confused by her request, then poured her a glass.

“Aww, don’t tell me you’re weird looking and _boring,_ too!” Angel whined.

“I’m not boring!” she huffed. “I just don’t feel like drinking something that tastes like rubbing alcohol.”

“More for me then,” he said with a shrug.

She sipped at her drink in awkward silence, the familiar feeling of being out of place coming over her.

“So, are you staying here long?” she asked. He raised an eyebrow.

“Are you really tryin’ to make small-talk, toots? That’s kinda _sad_.”

_Well, ouch._

“Just making conversation,” she said, feigning fascination with the contents of her now half-empty glass. He sighed.

“If ya really wanna know, I’m here cuz I got a pretty good grift goin. Those broads,” he gestured towards Charlie and Vaggie with both his right arms, “are letting me stay here rent-free cuz they think they can turn demons into angels or some shit.”

Now she was intrigued. “Is that possible?”

He laughed. “Fuck if I know! Prob’ly not. But I’m not gonna turn away a free meal ticket, even if it means I gotta stay mostly clean.”

“Wait, did you say rent-free?”

He grinned, showing off a golden tooth. “Yeah. I gotta deal with the one-eyed killjoy over there, but this still beats the last shithole I was living in.”

She shot a look at the bartender. “So, the rooms are _free_ , and you took my money anyway?” He shrugged, taking another swig from the bottle.

“You offered.”

She was about to argue with him when she heard the door open, and the air changed. It was as though static was dancing across her skin, and she tensed. Dread filled her as the more primordial parts of her brain sprang to life, urging her to _run, flee_.

“Fuckin’ great,” the drunken demon groaned.

“Well, would you look what the cat dragged in!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who ever could that be? Dun dun dun...


	5. Interference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something wicked this way comes, just as our protagonist was beginning to settle into her new reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the deer man.

There was a man standing in the doorway, looking very tall and very _red_.

“I see we have another wayward soul looking for redemption!” His voice was coated in static and accented as if he were in one of those old movies her mother was so fond of. Charlie and Vaggie sprang from their places on the couch and moved towards the bar as he approached, twirling an old-fashioned microphone idly in his hand.

“What are you doing here, creep?” Vaggie hissed, now holding a spear (where had _that_ come from?), voice dripping with malice as she positioned herself in between him and Lee. Whoever this guy was, it was clear she hated him more than she distrusted her.

“My business meeting was postponed, so I thought I would pop in and see how our wonderful establishment is doing! And I’m so glad I did!” He seemed to speak almost exclusively in exclamation points, as though he was performing for an invisible audience.

“Well, uh, we got it under control here! Thanks for stopping by!” Charlie said in a strained voice.

He continued to saunter towards them, his tattered waistcoat fluttering slightly. His red and black hair swooped up and outward in waves, with two cowlicks that almost resembled ears, and were those…tiny antlers?

“And leave without greeting our newest guest? Don’t be silly!” He grinned; a jackal’s smile filled with sharp, golden yellow teeth.

He shoved Vaggie aside and at last he was leering down at Lee, who was perched on the barstool and feeling intimidated.

“It’s, uh, nice to meet you, sir.” When in doubt, be polite, that’s what her days of working retail had drilled into her. The tall man’s unnatural smile stretched wider.

“Manners! Why, that’s music to my ears! It’s about time we got somebody with some decent home training around here.” She heard the sound of a crowd applauding and glanced around, only to realize the sound was coming from _him_.

His arm darted out to grab her by the hand, pulling her off the stool and stumbling to her feet. “Alastor, sponsor and co-owner of this lovely hotel. Pleasure to meet you!” She braced her free hand against the bar to keep from falling over as he held out his microphone, pushing her chin upwards with it. “And you are?”

Lee paused. Talia was always going on about how names had power, and this guy didn’t exactly scream “trustworthy.”

“You can call me Lee.” She tried to keep her voice as even as possible.

 _Just treat this guy like any other difficult patron,_ she thought. She hoped he’d take the hint and let go of her, but instead he threw his head back in posh laughter.

“Oh sweetheart, I didn’t ask you what you were called, I asked you your _name_ ,” he said. This time there was an edge to his voice that unsettled her as the static surrounding him seemed to momentarily give way to something much darker.

“Well, everyone calls me Lee,” she said again, trying to pull her hand from his iron grip. “And I don’t think giving my true name out to a demon I’ve just met would be the best idea.”

His eyebrow quirked upwards. “Clever girl.”

Mercifully, he released her hand, and she stumbled backwards, knocking against the barstool.

“Lee’s new, Al,” Charlie said. “She got here last night, and it looks like she hasn’t gotten her new body yet.”

“New body?” Lee asked.

“Well, you still look human. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Charlie added, as if she was afraid to offend her. “Sometimes when people take a long time to die, it takes longer for their souls to take on their new form.”

Lee looked down at her bare feet, the weight of her words heavy on her mind.

“I don’t think I’m dead.”

Angel laughed. “Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, toots. You’re down here, ya dead. Sooner ya get that through ya thick skull the better.”

“Angel!” Vaggie glared at him.

“I’m serious. I don’t think I’m dead,” Lee said. And it was true; something deep in her bones told her she was still alive. It was a feeling she couldn’t explain, but also one she couldn’t ignore.

“Yeah, and I’m the fuckin' King of France,” the bartender grumbled.

“In that case, how ever did you manage to wriggle out of the grasp of whatever spirit brought you down here?” Alastor leaned against the bar, his voice tinged with amusement. “Did you make a deal with a particularly clumsy crossroads demon?”

“There was no spirit. I was walking, and I think I got hit by a car.” The memories came rushing back to her. “I was in a hospital, and they were trying to keep me alive. I saw it all, the doctors, the nurses. There was even a Nazi with his leg torn off in the bed next to me.”

A flash of residual panic hit her, and she took a shuddering breath. “I was alone in the dark. And there was nothing, _I_ was nothing. I was floating there for what seemed like years, all alone. Then I felt all these eyes on me, like someone was sifting through my soul, and I fell down here.”

A tense silence stretched between them.

_“Bullshit,”_ Angel scoffed.

“I concur, absolute bushwa indeed!” Alastor chimed in.

“It’s true!” Lee interjected.

“Look, if you don’t want to tell us how you died, fine, but that doesn’t make it ok for you to make stuff up.” Vaggie crossed her arms in annoyance.

“Lee, I’m sorry, we aren’t trying to upset you. It’s just…that doesn’t sound possible,” Charlie said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Well it’s the only story I’ve got.” Why did they think she was lying? She had no reason to lie to them!

“How about we get you some dinner, and if you want to tell us later, you can.”

Lee sighed. It was clear that no matter what she said, they weren’t going to take her seriously. “ _Fine._ But can I at least get a shower first? I must look terrible.”

“No need!” Alastor piped up. The microphone in his hand vanished from existence, to Lee’s disbelief, and he snapped his fingers. Her dirty hospital gown warped and shifted, taking the form of a simple dress paired with stockings and flats, and the tattered plastic tarp around her shoulders became a soft scarf. Her damp, matted hair was now clean and dry, and she no longer looked like she had spent the night in the gutter.

“How did you do that?” Her voice was soft, still in shock. Not only was she in Hell, now there was _magic_ involved?

“Why, just a simple parlor trick, dear! No trouble at all, really,” he said, a smug smile on his face. “Now, you must be starved! Let’s get you some dinner, shall we?” Before she could respond, he hooked his arm in hers and started dragging her away, her shaky legs struggling to keep up with his long strides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, writing Alastor's dialogue was the toughest part of this scene, and probably the most daunting part of this work for me. I hope I was able to do the bastard justice! Things are gonna really pick up next chapter, so stay tuned...


	6. The Human Issue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee's first dinner at the hotel goes awry when a terrible discovery is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah this thing has a plot lol

While this wasn’t the most awkward dinner Lee had ever had the displeasure of sitting through, it was certainly up there. She had scarfed down the meal served to her by two goat butlers (Razzle and Dazzle, Charlie informed her), and now sat quietly next to the blonde demoness as Angel and Vaggie argued over his “extracurricular activities.”

“How many times do we have to tell you NOT to bring clients to the hotel?” Vaggie sounded exasperated.

“What? Ain’t that what hotels are for? Hook-ups?”

“NO! This is supposed to be a place of _rehabilitation_ , free from sinful activities!”

“They also track dirt all over the carpet!” That last comment came from a tiny pink haired cyclops, who had enthusiastically introduced herself as Niffty. “It makes such a mess!” She reminded Lee almost of a honeybee, cute and _fast_ , with a bit of edge to her.

“Whateva.”

Lee sipped her drink, lost in thought. While this was better than being behind a literal garbage can, the unpleasant personalities of some of her new acquaintances indicated her stay wasn’t exactly going to be smooth sailing. But she had a roof over her head, a full belly, new shoes and didn’t smell like trash, so she decided to force herself to be optimistic. One thing that still bothered her were Charlie’s words regarding how she had gotten there. Sure, it sounded farfetched, and if Lee hadn’t been living it, she wouldn’t have believed her either. But the idea of her situation being so unusual that the who-knows-how-old residents of Hell had never heard of such a thing worried her greatly.

As if she could read her mind (and that was a distinct possibility, given that magic was apparently a thing here), Charlie stood and cleared her throat, addressing the motley crew of demons.

“As you can see, we have a new guest staying with us. So, I think it would be a good time to go over some ground rules. Since Lee… _thinks_ she’s still human, these rules will be especially important.”

“First, no taking her out of the hotel until she gets her new body. No drugs or mischief. No trying to kill or maim her.” That particular directive sent a chill down Lee’s spine. “And finally, _no tricking her into deals_.” She shot a pointed look at Alastor.

Charlie sat again, satisfied. “As Princess of Hell, those are my orders. Follow them. Please?”

Lee now felt much more at ease. Even though she was in Hell, she certainly could do worse than being under the protection of a princess. That was probably a big deal around here, right?

“Might I add something as well, Charlie?” the deer demon at the far end of the table piped up.

“…You may.”

“I humbly suggest we keep news of our new arrival under wraps, at least until she takes her new form. After all, humans are quite the rarity, and it’s difficult to operate a business when half of Hell is knocking on our door asking to see our latest attraction!”

“That’s actually a great point. Thanks, Al.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

There was a beat of silence, and the eyes of Lee’s tablemates turned towards her. She tugged at the hem of her dress, feeling nervous yet again.

“So…I guess I should start off by thanking you for letting me stay the night,” Lee said.

“Of course! We’re happy to have you as a guest!” Charlie beamed.

“I know you guys are probably pretty busy, so for you to spare a room for me means a lot.”

“Busy? HAH! Don’t be ridiculous! You’re the first soul to darken our doorstep in weeks, dear!”

If Alastor wasn’t already dead, the look Vaggie shot him certainly would have killed him.

“Shut it, you strawberry _jackass_.” She looked ready to throttle him.

It was obvious to Lee that she’d unintentionally brought up a bit of a sore subject, and she quickly interrupted them.

“I really want to be able to pay you back for your kindness. I don’t have any money…” she glanced at the bartender, who she had learned was named Husk, “but I’ve got a ton of work experience! Bookstore, gas station, waitress, library assistant, camp counselor…” she trailed off.

“That’s all wonderful, Lee,” Charlie said, placing a reassuring hand on Vaggie’s shoulder. “I’m sure Vaggie can think of some work for you to do.”

The one-eyed woman sighed. “You can start out helping Niffty with cleaning. If we need your help with paperwork, you’ll do that too. That’ll cover room and board, plus a little extra for you to save. Sound alright?”

The little cyclops perked up. “Oh, I could so use a helper! It’s hard for me to reach the top of the wardrobes.”

“That sounds more than fair, thank you so much,” Lee replied. She thought she could see the ghost of a smile form on Vaggie’s face as Charlie squeezed her hand affectionately.

“So, how’re things up top?” Angel drawled.

“Well, terrible if I’m being totally honest,” she said. “The climate’s a fucking wreck, so there’s way more natural disasters now. There are tons of wars going on, and even countries that aren’t at war are struggling due to political corruption. The minimum wage is shit, and there’s no hope of finding a decent job because the market crashed, _again_.” She paused. “Still better than down here, though.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Husk grunted.

“Well, that all sounds wonderfully dreadful!” Alastor said, looking delighted. “So much misfortune and misery to go around, with absolutely no hope of improvement! Tell me, are people hanging themselves in despair like in 1929?”

She grit her teeth. “Yes, some people are suffering terribly.”

“And would you count yourself among the loathsome masses who have _utterly_ failed in these trying times?”

She’d known this guy for all of an hour, and he was asking her stuff like this? She understood why Vaggie hated him. But he just _smiled_ as if they were talking about something perfectly normal, and that made her even angrier.

“I’m doing the best I can.”

“Of _course_ you are, darling,” he simpered. “Now, I believe you mentioned natural disasters?”

“Al—" Charlie tried to intervene, but Lee was already on her feet. She was exhausted, and she didn’t need some creep trying to push her buttons.

“Thanks for dinner.” She got up from the table in a huff, wanting to be anywhere but here. But before she could reach the door, a tug on her ankle sent her crashing to the floor. The recorded sound of laughter soon followed.

There was a sharp pain in her nose, and her lips felt _wet_. Why was her face wet? She pulled her head up to see bright red speckling the hardwood floor. Blood. She gingerly touched a finger to just below her nose, which came away covered in blood as well.

“Are you alright my d—" Alastor’s sarcastic remark was cut off. She twisted to see her tablemates’ eyes were all fixed on her. Something in the air had changed, and she felt like she was staring at a den full of hungry lions rather than her new acquaintances. Husk’s fur was standing on end, Niffty’s giant eye held a pupil the size of a pinprick, and Angel was actually _drooling._ But Alastor, oh Alastor was what scared her the most. It was as if the very air around him had darkened, and thick tendrils of shadow curled up from below him. The antlers on his head had stretched into a pointy crown of spikes, and his perpetual smile was absolutely ferocious.

“Oh shit,” Charlie breathed.

The world shifted as Lee was wrenched to her feet.

“Run, NOW!” Vaggie cried.

Lee struggled to keep up as she was pulled along by the one-eyed girl, bursting through the door and out of the dining room. Charlie was soon at their side, holding her nose, as they steered the frightened human through the lobby, up the stairs and into the elevator.

Vaggie pounded her fist so hard against the buttons Lee was afraid she might break them, and pinched her nose as well. Lee slumped against the back wall of the elevator as the doors closed, heart hammering in her chest. Still dripping blood onto the floor, she tilted her head backwards to try to keep from staining the carpet.

They rode the elevator to the top floor, where Lee was carted into the bathroom of one of the penthouse suites. Charlie flung open the medicine cabinet and pulled out some cotton balls as Vaggie muttered curses in Spanish. Lee dutifully plugged her nostrils with them, and the girls relaxed, letting go of their noses.

“What the hell was that?” Lee’s voice was thick and strange sounding, all stuffed up.

“You weren’t lying. You’re alive. You’re still human,” Charlie said in disbelief. This earned another string of curses from Vaggie.

“ _¡Puchica!_ I knew it, I knew this was a bad idea!”

“What’s going on?!”

“It’s your blood. Demons are naturally attracted to human blood.” Vaggie said, kicking the wall in frustration.

“My _blood?_ ”

“Human blood has lots of uses in magic and summoning rituals. My dad said it holds lots of power, so it makes sense that demons go crazy for it,” Charlie offered. She wet a washcloth and began to clean the drying blood off of her face, doing her best not to bump against her still-sore nose. “Some are more affected by it than others, but it’s attractive and valuable to pretty much anyone down here. That means we’re going to have to be extra careful.”

Icy dread washed over Lee, and she began to tremble and shake in spite of herself. Not only was she trapped in Hell, she was now a magnet for hungry and desperate demons, with the equivalent of an all-you-can-eat magic buffet coursing through her veins. Tears blurred her vision, and although she did her best to blink them away, Charlie still noticed.

“We’re not going to let anyone hurt you,” Charlie said, her hands firm on her shoulders. “And we’re going to find a way to get you back to where you belong. I promise.” Lee swallowed thickly and nodded.

“HOW?!? HOW are we going to do that??? We’ve been having enough trouble getting sinners to be redeemed, how the fuck are we going to get a _live human’s soul_ back to the surface?” Vaggie sounded equal parts furious and exasperated. Charlie shot her a look.

“We’ll find a way…I hope.”

“I’m sorry,” Lee murmured. Vaggie huffed.

“Look, we know it’s not your fault, but if we hadn’t gotten you out of there things could have gotten really bad. You’re going to need to be cautious from now on,” Charlie said. “You should probably stay here with us tonight.”

Lee shook her head. “No, I don’t want to intrude.” In truth, she didn’t want to be around anyone should she start bleeding again.

“But—"

“She said no, hon,” Vaggie interjected. The one-eyed girl brought her hand to Lee’s sore nose and pushed down.

“Ow!”

“It doesn’t seem broken, at least,” she said with a frown. Vaggie glanced at Charlie, and a look Lee couldn’t decipher passed between them. Charlie cleared her throat.

“Well, um, I’ll go get you your key then,” she said. “I have to make sure they didn’t destroy the dining room anyway.”

“Okay.”

Charlie made herself scarce, leaving Lee alone with Vaggie, who walked back into the main room and sat down on her and Charlie’s bed, head in her hands. Lee followed awkwardly.

“I want you to know I don’t like this,” Vaggie said. “Not because I hate you or anything, but because you’re _dangerous_.”

Lee blinked. She had never been described as dangerous in her life!

“Charlie has worked hard to get this hotel off the ground, and the last thing she needs is some clumsy human tearing it all apart. So, you’re going to watch yourself, stay inside, and make yourself as non-threatening as possible. And if you go off allying with Overlords or inciting turf wars,” Vaggie’s eye narrowed, “I’ll end you myself.”

Lee gulped. Even though she didn’t know what an Overlord was, she could tell she was deadly serious. She wasn’t sure why Vaggie was down here, but it could very well have been for murder. “Understood.”

Vaggie sighed. “Good. And one more thing: don’t make a deal with that shitlord Alastor.”

“Wasn’t going to. He seems like a jerk.”

She laughed. “Understatement of the fucking year.” Her tone turned serious again. “Stay away from him. He’s a dangerous man, an Overlord and a dealmaker who thrives off of chaos and violence. They call him the Radio Demon because he’d broadcast his rampages all across Hell, just to showcase his power. He’s killed _thousands._ ”

The warning she had seen on the poster flashed in Lee’s mind. _Beware the Radio Demon!_

“Wait, you can _die_ in Hell?” _Great, something else for me to worry about._

“Die isn’t the most accurate term, I guess,” she clarified, “It’s hard to kill someone down here. Most of the time your body just regenerates, even if you’ve been torn to pieces. It’s painful, and it sucks, but it keeps us alive. To really kill a soul, they have to be erased, either during the Extermination with an angelic weapon or by a powerful Overlord using Hell-knows-what sort of dark magic. Alastor figured out how to do it, the bastard, and many souls have met their final end at his hands.”

“If he’s so powerful, why is he here?”

“He claims it’s for his own ‘entertainment,’ but I don’t buy it. Whatever he wants, he’s someone we shouldn’t be involved with anyway, but Charlie insisted on giving him a chance.” A far-off look appeared in Vaggie’s eye, “She’s committed to this project, and I love her for it, but I don’t think she understands that not everyone can be redeemed.”

Lee sat down next to Vaggie, who shot her a look, but didn’t move.

“You mentioned an extermination?”

“Yeah. Angels aren’t the sweet, benevolent spirits you learned about in Sunday School. They’re psychotic killing machines who love nothing more than swooping down from Heaven once a year and spearing anyone and everyone they can find. Supposedly it’s to cull the population, but I think some of the fuckers are just doing it for fun. That’s why we’re trying to prove that redeeming souls is possible, so we can end this vicious cycle.”

Lee shivered. The afterlife was far more violent than she had ever imagined.

They sat in silence for a while until Charlie returned, key in hand.

“I sent everyone to their rooms early, just in case,” she said. “You’ll be in the other penthouse suite for tonight so we’re nearby in case you need us.” She went to one of the drawers in her wardrobe, and, after digging around a bit, tossed her some pajamas. Lee caught them as Charlie waved her fingers in the air, causing them to magically change into her size. “That should be good for tonight. We can get you some more clothes tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Lee gingerly gathered up the garments in her hands. “For everything.”

Even though it was just down the hall, Charlie insisted on walking Lee to her new accommodations. The room was beautiful, of course, with repeated motifs of snakes and apples everywhere. The eyes carved into some of the furniture were a little unsettling, but she hoped they were just decoration. She carefully pulled the cotton from her nose in the bathroom, relieved to find that the bleeding had stopped.

After a long shower, she changed into her pajamas, and was about to crawl into bed when she heard a quick, rapid knock at her door. She opened it, assuming that Charlie or Vaggie were just checking on her but was surprised to see nobody there. At her feet were a cellphone and charger, along with a note. Picking them up, she squinted to read the note’s tiny, neat handwriting.

‘Dear Lee,

I’m sorry for going a little crazy at dinner. That was rude, and not conduct suiting a lady.

Anyway, I wanted to give you this. Charlie had gotten it for me, but I think you’d appreciate it more. Kids these days love these little gadgets. Get some rest, we start work bright and early tomorrow!

Niffty’

She turned on the phone. Except for the names on some of the apps, it looked just like a normal smartphone. Curious, she tapped the app labeled “Infernet,” which pulled up a search engine browser.

_This could be useful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have it, the crux of our poor heroine's arc and the idea that's been haunting me for months now! As someone who's not only fascinated with life after death but the religious and ritualistic practices of cultures around the world, blood sacrifice and blood magic has always been particularly intriguing to me. Add demons and my current hyper-fixation to the mix, and this is what emerged from my brain, fully formed like Athena. And I do mean fully formed, I've got the whole thing outlined :D
> 
> How will this affect Lee's stay? And if she's separated from her body, how is she still "alive?" Let's find out...


	7. A Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Radio Demon pays Lee a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here come dat boy

It turned out that the Infernet, just like search engines on the surface, was a bit hit or miss. It was incredibly useful when Lee searched up information about Hell’s system of governance (and how important Charlie’s parents were), the Extermination, and the past exploits of a certain Radio Demon. That last search turned up many, many results, most of them old but a few recent, and what she read made her sick. So much violence, chaos and destruction. She’d found a recording of one of his broadcasts, which was mainly screaming and begging interspersed with his laughter and biting commentary; she couldn’t make it all the way through and had to turn it off, bile burning the back of her throat.

When she searched for information to get back to the surface, however, the only results she got were outdated guides for demons looking to possess humans, an ad for a company that claimed to hunt down and kill your still-mortal enemies, and a video of a television interview Charlie had done about the hotel that hadn’t exactly gone smoothly. After a few hours of fruitless searching, she decided to give up for the night, and quickly slipped to the edge of sleep.

_Knock knock-knock-knock knock, knock knock._

She groaned and glanced at the time. Nearly 1 AM. If Charlie or Vaggie were here at this hour, it must be some sort of emergency.

“Coming!” she called, scrambling out of bed and undoing the latch on the door. But when she opened the door, she found herself not looking at a worried Charlie or Vaggie, but looking up, up, _up_ into the grinning grey face of the last demon she wanted to see.

“Evening, darling!” he chirped as he brushed past her. She stared at him. “I see they’ve done some re-decorating. Not to my tastes, but not bad!”

“Get out of my room.” She did her best to hide the tremor in her voice.

“Oh, but dear, if anything you’re in _my_ room.” He perched on the edge of her bed. “You see, on occasion I do like to spend the evening here, and this room is my absolute favorite!”

“I don’t care. Get. Out.”

“Hmmm,” he mused. “No, I don’t think I will.” He seemed to relish the look of panic that washed over her face. “At least, not until you hear about a _wonderful_ new opportunity that could be a boon to the both of us!” A chorus of “oohs,” erupted from him, the sound of a fascinated invisible crowd.

“You see,” he continued, “it appears your suspicions were correct, and you are in fact still alive, in some sense or the other. As a result, your spirit has manifested a body that is fully mortal, from your head to your toes, including the ichor in your veins.” 

_Again with the blood stuff_ , she thought.

“As a practitioner of sanguimancy myself, I can assure you that human blood is a rare commodity, and the occasional mortals that are dragged down here don’t tend last long.” He looked far too pleased to share that bit of information with her, his vermillion eyes glowing like hot coals in the dark of her room.

“And for a new source of blood to fall into my lap, why, it must be fate! I can think of several of my clients who would be interested in getting their hands on some of yours.” He smirked. “After all, virgin blood is especially sought after.”

“ _Excuse_ you?!?” Lee sputtered.

“Blood from a source untouched by previous rituals. You look too meek to have dabbled in dark magic, but if you have, do let me know. I need to know what I’m providing my clients, should you be willing to sell the rights to your blood to me.”

“Sell my…are you insane?! No! Absolutely not!”

“But you haven’t even heard how you’ll benefit from this arrangement!”

“I don’t care, I said no. _Leave._ ”

“ _Not until I’m finished.”_ That dangerous edge was back in his voice as his eyes narrowed. Lee felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

“In return,” he continued, as though he were talking to a child, “you will be under my protection. I’m sure dear Vagatha has informed you of my reputation by now. I am both a powerful ally and a dangerous enemy to make.”

“Didn’t Charlie tell you not to make deals with me?”

“Dear Charlotte only instructed me not to _trick_ you into any deals. This is hardly a trick, just a straightforward proposition!”

She crossed her arms. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch! Just a regular schedule of collections. Although,” A wicked look spread across his face. “I may also take a bit from time to time for…personal use. I’m sure you taste delicious.”

Lee felt her breath catch in her throat as a hot wave of fear rolled through her. Her head was spinning, filled with the images of the carnage he’d caused as she took a step backwards. A dangerous question formed at the back of her mind.

“If this is something you want,” she tried to keep her voice steady, “why not just take it anyway? Why offer a deal?”

“Why, for potency of course!” he answered cheerily. “Blood that is given freely for rituals works much better for certain spells than blood that was taken, and I wouldn’t want to offer my clients an inferior product.” He stood, smoothing out his dress shirt as she took another step back. “Of course, for other spells, the reverse is also true.” There was that dark tone again.

He took a step forward, a fluid, predatory motion. “There are many foul creatures down here who would love nothing more than to tear you asunder and drink you dry, my dear. My protection is something most sinners would gladly sell their souls for, and a far more generous offer than I normally provide.”

He stretched out his arm, offering his hand. “So, tell me darling,” A green flame burst from his palm and wind rushed through the room as pure _power_ washed over them in waves.

_“Do we have a deal?”_

She swallowed thickly.

“No.”

His hand closed and the power dissipated, his smile faltering. He cocked his head to the side at an unnatural angle. “Pardon?”

“There’s no way I’m making a deal with any demon, let alone you. For the last time, the answer is _no_. Now get out.”

Instead of moving to leave as she had hoped, he clasped his hands behind his back and observed her. She grew more nervous with each passing second. Finally, he spoke.

“First you won’t tell me your true name, then you reject my generous offer! I’m starting to think you don’t enjoy my company, even though I’ve been nothing but a gentleman.”

She snorted. “Gentlemen don’t go barging into women’s rooms at ungodly hours of the night.” 

He clutched at his chest in mock horror. “You wound me, darling! I’ve given you no reason to be afraid of me!”

“I’m not afraid of you, I’m _pissed off.”_

His grin widened. “Oh, yes you are. I can smell it.” He stepped closer, and she scurried back. “Though I suppose I can’t blame you. A poor dame spirited away to the underworld; a true Persephone trapped in such a perilous predicament. Who wouldn’t be shaking in their boots?” His voice was at once mocking and delighted, as if he was savoring her discomfort.

Another step, then another, until her back hit the wall and they were standing toe to toe. The room seemed to flicker away and she was no longer looking up at him, but at another face, one she’d tried to forget. She could hear her pulse hammering in her ears, her instincts screaming at her to get away, and _fast_.

“If you touch me,” her voice was low and trembling as she tried to force the words out, “I’ll scream and Charlie and Vaggie will hear it.”

He laughed, an unpleasant and sinister sound. “Oh, my dear…”

“ _You wouldn’t get the chance.”_

And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so fun to write! Alastor can be such a creepy, manipulative bastard, and I loved getting to delve into that side of him, if only slightly.
> 
> Also, while I'm a big fan of the whole "selling your immortal soul for a corn chip" thing, this isn't the direction this story is going to go. If Alastor wants to make a deal with Lee, it's gonna take some scheming, if it works at all.
> 
> This concludes my megaposting of the first seven chapters! I'll try to update this at least weekly (I have the first 50k words written and edited), so if I miss an update I'm either in jail or dead. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this far! If even one person reads my story, I'll be beyond satisfied. I needed to exorcise this demon of a plot line from my brain, and decided, why not share it with the world?
> 
> Please let me know what you think in the comments! While I have an idea of where I want the story to go, I always welcome audience feedback and constructive criticism, especially considering this is my first published fic. I want to improve as a writer and keep you entertained!
> 
> If you want to talk to me, you can follow me on Twitter or Tumblr @ReginaMangala. 
> 
> Thanks again!
> 
> Regina <3


	8. First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee has her first day of work at the hotel. But will her stay be jeopardized by forces outside her control?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely humbled by the response I've gotten to the first seven chapters. It's a bit surreal to think that actual human beings are not only reading my work, but liking it enough to stick around for updates!
> 
> When I started drafting this project back in August I expected to get maybe a dozen kudos and a few bookmarks over several months of posting. 20 regular readers seemed like a pipe dream. But you all have smashed those expectations, and I lack the words to express my gratitude. 
> 
> I'm very new to all of this, and don't really know anyone in the fandom or fic-writing community. If you want to chat, or just say hi, please feel free to shoot me a message, either on here or on Twitter/Tumblr (@ReginaMangala). I'd love to get to know you!
> 
> Now, on with the show!

After a night of tossing and turning, kept awake by fears that her unwelcome visitor might return, Lee had just fallen into a dreamless sleep when a rapid staccato knocking at her door pulled her back into the waking world. She groggily opened it to see Niffty, looking up at her and tapping her foot impatiently.

“You’re still not dressed?! It’s almost 6!” she scolded, “You don’t want to be late on your first day!”

“Sorry, I must have forgot to set my alarm.”

“Well, hurry up!!!” she said, which was quickly followed by, “Sorry, that was rude. But you should hurry before the coffee gets cold!” The little demon darted down the hall towards the elevator. How anyone could have that much energy, let alone this early in the morning, was beyond Lee.

Spurred on by the promise of that life-giving elixir, _coffee_ , she changed into the clothes she had been wearing the day before (her only clothes, she would have to fix that), noting with a frown that her dress was stained with a few scattered droplets of dried blood. Luckily the bathroom of the penthouse suite came equipped with some toiletries, so she was able to brush her teeth, fix her hair and rub out the bloodstains with soap and water to the best of her ability.

As the tinged-pink water carry the evidence of last night’s fiasco down the drain, she considered whether to tell Charlie or Vaggie about Alastor’s offer. On one hand, they had not only warned her about him, but expressly forbid him and the other hotel residents from tricking her into anything nefarious. On the other hand, she was already on thin ice, at least in Vaggie’s eyes, and informing them of the Radio Demon’s proposal might be enough for Vaggie to convince Charlie to kick her out to ensure the safety of the other residents. She weighed her options carefully and decided to keep his late-night intrusion and absurd proposition to herself for now. He had asked, she’d refused him emphatically, and that was that.

True to her word, Niffty had prepared a steaming mug of coffee for Lee when she made her way down to the dining room, along with cream, sugar and some toast with jam. While she would have loved to savor each drop of the surprisingly delicious drink, she didn’t want to keep the impatient cyclops waiting any longer. After practically inhaling her breakfast, she carried her dishes into the industrial-size kitchen, where Niffy was already hard at work scrubbing the floor.

“Great, you’re here!” she snatched the plate and mug from her hands, darting to the sink to wash and dry them with lightning speed.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Well this kitchen is filthy, so that’s first on our list,” she said as Lee glanced around at the nearly-spotless kitchen in confusion, “then we have to vacuum the lobby and the halls, dust the paintings, wash the windows, polish the bannisters, and clean the rooms on the second, third and fourth floors. Oh, and the piano lounge could use a deep cleaning!”

“And _how_ many rooms are on each floor?”

“Oh, 20 or so. Not many,” she said, grabbing a rag and some polishing spray from a caddy of cleaning supplies that was almost as big as she was, “Here, you can start on the cabinets.”

Lee groaned internally. This was going to be a _long_ day.

* * *

By the time mid-afternoon rolled around, Lee was convinced that if she could bottle whatever manic energy kept Niffty going, she would be a millionaire overnight. She felt thoroughly outclassed by the little demon, who scrubbed, swept, polished and folded with the speed and precision of pit crew on a racetrack. However, Lee certainly had her in the height department, so she took to the task of washing the windows and dusting paintings for her vertically challenged coworker.

For a demon, Niffty turned out to be surprisingly friendly, and Lee was happy to let her chatter on about some new TV show called “The Batc-Hell-orette” and which demon guy was the hottest and deserved the final thorn as they changed the linens in the hotel rooms. One room on the second floor had a sign taped to it reading, “Angel’s Room, Keep The Fuck Out” in neat cursive, which Niffty did not enter.

“Sometimes he leaves his toys out and I don’t like having to put them back so I can strip the bed,” she explained.

“Toys?” While the spider appeared to have a bit of a juvenile attitude, the idea of him playing with toys like a kid was quite the image.

“ _Adult_ toys.” Niffty made an obscene gesture.

“Can’t say I blame you, then.”

Thanks to her literal speed demon of a co-worker, they quickly moved through all of that day’s hotel rooms, most of which looked perfectly clean to Lee but Niffty insisted were “absolutely unacceptable.” Several trips to the laundry room later, the only task left was to clean was the piano lounge, which was on the ground floor just off of the lobby.

Lee was surprised to see it was a relatively normal room, with minimal eyes on the walls and no spikes on the furniture. It was also beautiful, with rich cream wallpaper adorned with a golden seal that she had seen everywhere in the hotel. There was a couch in front of a coffee table and TV tucked into the corner, as well as a few armchairs and tables next to the windows.

The star of the show, sitting proudly in the center of the room, was a white baby grand piano. While a bit dusty, Lee could tell it was a piece of fine craftsmanship and probably cost a fortune. She tapped on a few keys and was delighted when the piano sang out in clear, rich tones.

“Do you play?” Niffty asked.

“Not really.”

“That’s ok, it’s not for everyone. Mister Alastor tried to teach me a while ago but I decided I liked the ukulele better.”

For some reason the idea of Alastor playing piano made the skill seem almost sinister, like in old horror movies where the villain would dramatically play the pipe organ. “Maybe you could play for me sometime.”

Niffty grinned so wide Lee thought her face would split in half. “That’d be so fun! I haven’t played for anyone ‘sides Mister Alastor since I was up top in Honolulu!”

“You’re from Hawaii?”

“Yeah, lived there my whole life. Oh, I miss it sometimes! It was beautiful, and everything was so clean! Well, except the camp, that place was filthy.”

“The camp?”

“Yeah, _Jigokudani_ down in the gulch. They put all us _nisei_ in there after Pearl Harbor. My brothers and I got lice three times! So dirty!”

Lee felt a pang of shock and pity. The little demon acted so peppy and bright, but she had been in an internment camp in the 40s? “I’m so sorry, Niffty, that’s awful.”

The little demon just smiled. “It’s ok! They let us out, after all.” Lee thought she could see a tinge of sadness in her eye but decided not to press the issue anymore.

With the piano lounge spotless, Niffty proclaimed that she was going to go wax the dining room floor, but that Lee was free to go. As she exited the lounge, she heard two female voices arguing from down the hall. She crept closer to a door with “Manager’s Office” written on it in gold letters.

“I’m telling you Charlie, it’s not safe for her to stay here. Maybe she could go stay at one of your parent’s other buildings,” she heard Vaggie say, voice muffled by the door.

“I know, I know. But I’d rather have her here than with strangers. You know how demons are,” Charlie replied. “I appreciate you trying to look out for me, but I think if I can hold my own against Hell’s most powerful Overlords, hosting a human for a while shouldn’t be a huge challenge.”

“It’s not just you I’m worried about, babe. Did you see the way Alastor stared at her during dinner last night? The _pendejo_ looked like he wanted to _eat_ her. He’s planning something, I know it.”

Her words were like ice water dripping down Lee’s spine. Had she made the right call not to tell them about what Alastor had said to her? She strained to listen to Charlie’s reply, when a voice from behind her made her jump.

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop, you know.”

Lee whipped around to see Alastor, microphone tucked in the crook of his arm, grinning as usual.

“What the _fuck_ , Alastor? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she hissed.

“Not currently, though that would be quite entertaining!”

“Keep your voice down, Jesus!” she whisper-shouted at him, just as the door to the manager’s office swung open behind her.

“Lee? Al?”

Lee opened her mouth to offer some sort of excuse when Alastor wrapped his arm around her, clawed gloves digging into her shoulder.

“Hello, ladies! Our newest guest and I were just chatting about her first day working at our fine establishment! Isn’t that right, my mortal friend?” His grip on her shoulder tightened in warning.

“Yeah. Alastor was asking how much Niffty and I were able to get done.” She gave the girls one of her fake customer service smiles, “And the answer is a lot! She’s little, but fast!”

“Well…I’m glad to hear it,” Charlie said, clearly not buying her explanation but not wanting to pry. Vaggie, however, had no such reservations.

“Were you listening in on us?!”

“No!” Lee said, “I was just coming back from the piano lounge and we happened to bump into each other, that’s all.”

Vaggie frowned, and had opened her mouth to speak when Charlie interrupted.

“It’s actually convenient that I ran into you! I wanted to show you your new room, since Al said he’s going to be staying in the penthouse more often.”

“Oh,” Lee said, glancing up at him and shrugging out of his grip. “Well, I’m done for the day, so I’d love to see it.”

Her new accommodations, Room 184, was on the first floor right by Husk’s and Niffty’s rooms. It was far smaller and much less ornate than the penthouse suite, but it had a bed, a bathroom and an armchair, which was really all she needed. She was pleasantly surprised to find that the closet and drawers had some clothes, socks and undergarments, seemingly left there for her. There were a few pairs of shoes on a rack by the door, as well as new toiletries in the bathroom.

“I put you here because we’re hoping to make this the staff wing of the hotel. I hope it’s alright.”

“How did you know my size?”

“Magic,” she grinned. “A lot of the shirts and pants are my old ones that I don’t wear any more, the rest is new. I put a charm on them, so they’ll fit you perfectly!”

“Wish we had that kind of thing up top,” she said with a smile. “Thank you. This is too much.”

“It’s nothing, really! Once you get your first paycheck you can order some stuff to redecorate with if you want. Speaking of which,” she pulled a wallet out of her back pocket, “your new debit card is here. I set up your bank account this morning. It usually takes weeks, but when the Magne’s come a-calling, they suddenly speed things up.” She gave Lee a conspiratorial wink.

Lee pulled the demon princess in for a hug.

“You are so nice. I’d swear you were an angel if I weren’t, y’know, in Hell.”

Charlie warmly returned her embrace. “Well, my dad’s a fallen angel, so you’re half right!”

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, with the most excitement coming from Angel complaining about it being his turn to do the dishes; a silly thing to be mad about, Lee thought, since he had extra arms. Lee had volunteered to do them instead, but Vaggie shut her down, claiming that Angel needed to “learn to be responsible for once.”

She was browsing the Infernet in her pajamas when she heard a knock at her door.

“Are you in there, dear?”

She groaned. “Go _away,_ Alastor.”

“You’re still awake, excellent!” he replied, swinging open the door that she had _sworn_ she had locked. She jumped and scrambled back, knocking against the headboard.

“Our conversation earlier was rudely interrupted, and while I am glad to hear you’re getting along with dear Niffty, I had meant to ask if you had given any more thought to my proposition.” He waltzed into her room, making himself at home.

“For the last time, my answer is no. And if you keep asking, I’m going to tell Charlie and Vaggie that you’ve been pestering me.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that would be a wise decision.” The static around his voice grew louder.

“I don’t care. Now get out.” She tossed one of her pillows at him, only to watch it whip around his head and smack her straight in the face. “Asshole.” she grumbled.

He wagged his finger at her. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Language, darling. You would do well to _mind your words_ around here.” That familiar feeling of dread came creeping back, and she felt goosebumps raise on her arms as he leaned down, his face now inches from hers. “While our dear princess may have forbidden me from cutting out your tongue, do not think such insolence will go unpunished.” His voice was low, and he made no effort to hide his malice.

_Oh shit._

“Sorry.” Her voice came out far shakier than she wanted. He considered her, as if weighing his options.

“Apology accepted, my dear!” he said, flicking her in the forehead.

“Ow!”

He straightened and went back to chattering on, as if he hadn’t just threatened her moments ago.

“I must insist we keep the details of my proposal between us, though! You see, they still don’t trust me, I can’t _imagine_ why, and I fear if they knew they’d bring your stay here to a swift end and ship you off to another one of the Magne’s estates. Tell me, dear, would you really like to be sent to some far-off corner of Hell? To be left in the care of those that serve Lucifer himself?”

As much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. While Charlie was an absolute ray of sunshine, her experience thus far in Hell indicated that others who were close to the Devil and his family would likely be downright dangerous.

“Fine. But I’m still not making a deal with you.”

“Stubborn one, aren’t you! I’m telling you dear, this is the deal of a lifetime, or whatever quasi-mortal state your soul is in, hahaha!” He turned to leave, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Do let me know if you change your mind. I’ll be waiting.”

The door swung shut behind him on its own, and Lee collapsed back onto her bed. It was clear that this guy was not going to give up easily. And since going to the others might be perilous business, she figured this was one problem she had to solve on her own. Luckily, she’d dealt with plenty of overbearing and persistent creeps from her days as a waitress. Plus, the knowledge that Charlie had expressly forbidden him from injuring her was a great comfort. A surge of confidence filled her. She wasn’t some shrinking violet, after all! This man wasn’t going to get the best of her, no sir.

“Ok Alastor,” she muttered to herself, “ _bring it on_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! The stage is set, and our heroine is determined to triumph over our favorite dealmaker in their battle of wills. There will be some twists ahead as their rivalry blossoms, and I hope to catch at least a few of you off guard with what I have planned. 
> 
> Chapter 9 drops next Tuesday, about the same time! I hope everyone is still enjoying themselves, and I welcome any constructive criticism and feedback. Your comments make my life. 
> 
> Be safe and be well! And as always, stay tuned...
> 
> Regina <3


	9. No Touching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee reflects on her newfound acquaintances and their quirks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case y'all haven't seen it, the official Alastor comic dropped yesterday on the HH website! It's gorgeous, fun, and lends more evidence to some of my personal headcanons and theories. Go read it now if you haven't!
> 
> It was also a bit freaky reading it because some of little turns of phrase and wordings matched dialogue I've written for future chapters of this story word-for-word (as of yesterday I've finished up to Chapter 27). Combine that with some of the lovely comments I've received, and it's made me feel a whole lot better about my portrayal of him! Obviously for my plotline and the relationship the story centers on to work I'm going to have to bend canon, but I still want to try to make it as authentic and engaging as I can, not rushed or ham-fisted.
> 
> Anyways, let's check in on our poor protagonist!

Lee had managed to survive her first week at the hotel, a small miracle, given the circumstances. And while most of her new acquaintances were rough around the edges to say the least, she had gotten to know some of them a bit better.

Charlie reminded her so much of Talia with her love of musicals and nearly boundless optimism. It turns out Lee was the first human she had ever met, and she was fascinated by Lee’s mundane tales of her life on the surface. She was amused by the questions Charlie peppered her with, such as whether any humans could wield magic like in Harry Potter (they couldn’t), whether there were humans who were half-divine like in the Percy Jackson books (there weren’t), and whether humans could really fall in love at first sight (she wasn’t sure, but she doubted it). Despite her unnatural surroundings, Lee couldn’t help but feel like _she_ was the exotic and mystical creature, not the demoness.

She also learned that Charlie and Vaggie were not only a couple, but an adorable one at that, as she’d often catch them holding hands under the table at dinner or nestled together on the couch in the lobby, working on their computers. Perhaps as a result of Charlie’s fondness of her, the one-eyed demon had started to open up to her a crack and was less tense whenever she was around them. Lee had even shared a laugh with her after it was discovered they both had a semi-ironic love of 80s hair metal bands.

Niffty was not only a talented musician but a hopeless romantic, emphasis on the hopeless, who was a prolific writer and consumer of fanfiction. Many of the stories Niffty had shown her starred a little cyclops demon named Swiffty being swept off her feet by at least one hunky demon, but she supposed she couldn’t blame her. Writing was supposed to be fun, after all! Why not write yourself into wonderful circumstances?

She was thoroughly convinced that Husk was a card cheat, because there’s absolutely no way she could lose at Blackjack 37 times in a row. Granted, she’d been unfamiliar with the game when he’d first shown her how to play, but she refused to believe her luck in drawing cards was that bad. That was alright though, as she was just as entertained playing cards with him as she was watching Angel continue to flirt with him shamelessly. Angel was dead set on getting in the good graces of the grizzled old cat and had suggested they all play strip poker on multiple occasions. They declined, obviously, but each time Husk was a bit slower to tell the promiscuous spider to buzz off, which made Lee think Angel’s advances weren’t as ill-received as he was being led to believe.

Angel also had a pet pig, much to her delight. She had met the little guy one day when he nudged against her while she was vacuuming the lobby. He’d given her a small fright to begin with (she was jumpier nowadays thanks to Alastor), but she had quickly scooped him up.

“Aren’t you the cutest little thing?” she cooed, giving him a cuddle.

“Fat Nuggets? Where are you, _tesoro?_ ” Angel called out, stopping when he saw the pig nestled safely in Lee’s arms. He marched over and quickly snatched him from her grip, ignoring her cry of protest.

“There you are! Daddy told you not to sneak out, didn’t he? You’ve been a naughty boy, haven’t you?” Angel sing-songed, snuggling the pig to his chest with all four arms.

“That’s your pig?” Lee asked. “He’s adorable.”

He seemed to crack a genuine smile. “Well of course he is, he’s my baby! Any baby of mine is gonna be cute as hell, yanno!”

From then on Angel would frequently text her pictures of Fat Nuggets in different outfits, sleeping, rolling around on his back and generally looking absolutely precious. She even convinced him to let her hold him on occasion, so long as they were alone, since “Smiles looks at him the way I look at a plate of bacon.”

‘Smiles,’ was Angel’s nickname for Alastor, who was quickly becoming the bane of her existence. Why, you ask?

Simply put, Alastor was an _asshole._

He seemed to delight in frightening people, often appearing out of nowhere and scaring the living daylights out of Lee. He was also fond of playing pranks, and had done everything from magically messing up rooms she had just cleaned, making her bathroom mirror drip black blood and, on one occasion, having her come home from a long day of work just to see all of her furniture placed perfectly on the ceiling.

When he wasn’t being actively annoying, he almost never shut up, chattering on and on about everything from the weather to turf wars to why music was so much better back in _his_ day. He told absolutely awful jokes, filled with puns and turns of phrase that might have been funny had anyone but him been delivering the punchline. Even when he wasn’t talking, he would often hum or play music using whatever weird radio magic he had, or interrupt other’s conversations with laughs, cheers and boos from his invisible studio audience.

His ego was massive, and he carried himself with the vanity and sense of smug superiority of a movie star. She often caught him adjusting his monocle, straightening his already-straight bowtie and making sure his hair lay just so, truly obsessed with appearances. However, his insistence on acting and looking the part of a gentleman was only made more unsettling by her knowledge of his true nature. Sometimes the mask slipped: he’d given her a grin that was more beastly than friendly on several occasions.

But perhaps his most maddening quirks were his strange ideas about personal space. He often had to remind Angel about his so-called “Five Foot Rule,” and would smack him with his microphone if he stepped over the line. His restrictions, however, clearly didn’t apply when he was the one initiating the contact: he would frequently crush Lee to his side as he regaled her with melodramatic tales of his exploits and would generally manhandle everyone else. He’d even smacked her on the ass a few times, only to disappear before she could tell him off. That being said, he absolutely _hated_ being touched without his express permission. She had found out the hard way one day when she had tried sneaking up on him and giving him a poke in the back.

“Boo!” she’d cried, hoping to give him a bit of a scare as payback. Instead, she was horrified to see his head twist around 180 degrees with a sickening cracking sound, followed by the rest of his body.

“ _Do that again and you will lose your hands **.**_ ” His voice was low and thick with static, and reality itself seemed to warp around him into distorted colors and images as his eyes changed into glowing, rapidly moving radio dials. Lee had backed away slowly, hands in the air, and had done her best to avoid him for the rest of the night.

Above all, he had a tendency to stare, not just at her but at everyone. It reminded her of a wolf, scanning its surroundings and staring down its prey, a bit of an ironic comparison given his deer-like features.

In fact, she was confident he was staring at her now, as she did her best to ignore him while on dish duty (it was technically Angel’s turn, but God knows where he was). He was no doubt waiting for an opportunity to scare her again, and she wasn’t going to give it to him.

“I can feel your eyes on me. Stop it,” she said, not bothering to look up from the sink.

“But my eyes are all the way over here, sat snugly in my skull!”

She rolled her eyes and turned to face him. “You know what I mean. You’re always watching me and it’s freaking me out.”

“I’m _observing_ you, dear. One must know one’s opponent intimately before making the first move.”

“So that’s how you view me? As an enemy?”

He threw his head back in raucous laughter. “Don’t be silly! You, an enemy of mine? Ludicrous! Why, you’re weaker than a kitten. I could crush you like a bug underneath my boot.”

She tried to suppress the shiver that ran through her at his words. “Then why bother ‘observing’ me?”

“While on your own you’re rather forgettable, your blood, in the hands of a competent sinner, has the potential to bestow great power. After all, blood magic has toppled dynasties, crippled kings and raised armies. And while there are few in this realm who would dare take up arms against me, I would much rather be in control of this precious asset than not.”

Anger flared in her. “I’m not an _asset_ , I’m a person!”

“Yes, yes, dear,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You know, you could always decide to accept my generous offer! That way I wouldn’t have to keep such close tabs on you.”

“I’ll do that when Hell freezes over,” she scoffed.

“So, January? Fair enough, I suppose can wait,” he said with a grin, sauntering out of the kitchen, “I’m looking forward to it already.”

It was all she could do to not hurl the plate she had been drying at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a slow, expository chapter, but hey, who doesn't like a bit of fluff? Gotta build that tension, let things settle and simmer...
> 
> I honestly can't wait to post the next few chapters, as our tale takes a turn that I'm sure you all will appreciate, and a few of the ones we have coming up shortly are some of my favorites in the whole story! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Any feedback always makes my day, and my heart does little flips whenever I get a new comment, so many thanks to everyone who's chimed in. 
> 
> See you next Tuesday!
> 
> <3 Regina


	10. Salt and Spoons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee and Angel spend some quality time together. Alastor continues his meddling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff? More fluff!
> 
> Also, an extra huge THANK YOU to each and every one of you! This week we passed 100 kudos, which is more than a bit surreal (I don't think I even know 100 people personally...) and I couldn't be more grateful to this community! The fact that 100+ real live human beings like the drabble that spills from my fingertips has done wonders for my self-esteem and given me a lot more energy to keep writing. Every kudos restores my soul, and as I am a selfish machine fueled by external validation, your lovely comments go into my brain and new words come out. So, thank you all so much!
> 
> Finally, I want to give an extra special shoutout to all my fellow aces! It's Asexual Awareness Week and I'm sending love to all of you, no matter where you fall on the asexuality spectrum, as well as bonus hugs to our aromantic siblings. In my humble opinion, I think marking the occasion by reading about our favorite canonically aroace murder deer is an apt way to celebrate! 
> 
> Now, on with the show!

It turned out that Angel, despite his stated disdain for work in the kitchen, was actually a pretty good cook. She had discovered this one day when she had offered to make dinner for everyone, as a show of appreciation for letting her stay. After a glance in the fridge and a frank assessment of her mediocre cooking skills, she’d decided on a simple dish of spaghetti and meatballs, something that would be quick to make and feed a crowd, especially since Alastor tended to eat enough for three people. Angel had walked in just as she was pulling the jar of spaghetti sauce from the pantry.

“You’re gonna use sauce from a _jar?_ ” he said, sounding offended.

“Uh, yeah, why?”

“No, no, no. Absolutely not. My Nona will cruise down from Heaven and slap the shit out of me if I don’t stop you.” He crossed one pair of arms while putting the others on his hips. “Put that shit away. I’ll be back in an hour with some decent fuckin’ stuff.”

True to his word, Angel returned an hour later with four armfuls of groceries and set about instructing Lee on the finer points of making a sauce from scratch.

“If ya want it to come out nice, ya gotta use San Marzano tomatoes. They’re the best in the biz.”

“You didn’t strike me as a cook, Angel,” Lee mused.

“My ma taught me. And she’s Sicilian, too, so I know what I’m fuckin’ talking about. Cut those eggplants, will ya?”

A little over an hour and a half later the dining table had been set with an Italian meal that according to Angel was “passable,” but to Lee looked absolutely delicious. Pasta alla Norma, caponata, baked stuffed sardines, and the cannoli’s he had picked up from the bakery were quickly set upon by the hungry hotel residents.

“This is delicious, Lee!” Charlie beamed.

“Don’t look at me, this was all Angel. I just helped. Turns out he’s a great cook and knows a lot about this stuff,” she replied, which got a huge smile out of her spidery friend.

“Well, my complements to Chef Angel!”

“Yeah, yeah, ya welcome. Now quit flappin’ ya lips. _Mangia, mangia!_ ”

“You know, maybe you could cook more often,” Vaggie said in between mouthfuls of pasta. Angel groaned, to which she added, “If you ever feel like it.”

“I’ll think about it,” he muttered, trying to sound annoyed but not fooling anyone.

Lee was pleasantly surprised that after dinner he even helped her wash the dishes, though he did whine and complain a bit. Charlie seemed thrilled at this turn of events, but did her best to suppress her glee, lest she ruin the moment.

“Thanks for your help, Angel,” Lee said as she placed the final pots back into their respective cabinets.

“Don’t mention it, toots. Really, don’t, I got a reputation to uphold an’ all.”

“Suuuuuure.”

“’Least now you know how to make a fuckin’ red sauce, huh?” He clapped her on the back appreciatively as he left.

Now that he was gone, she shot a look around to make sure she was truly alone before grabbing a cup full of salt from the pantry. She tucked a head of garlic into her pocket, along with some of the fancy silverware Niffty insisted be polished regularly as they were made of real silver.

Alastor’s nighttime visits had become more frequent, and though he always left after she told him yet again that she would not be making a deal with him, she was starting to get sick of his intrusions. She had asked Charlie where she could find a Bible, which she didn’t think they had in Hell but was pleasantly surprised to find in the hotel’s massive library. To cover all her bases, she’d also grabbed the Talmud, Qu’ran, and a few other holy books in hopes that one of them would have some effective verses about repelling annoying spirits.

She crept back to her room as quietly as she could, stealing glances behind her and only relaxing when she was alone with the door locked. She set about pouring the salt in a thick, continuous semicircle around her door, and placed the silverware and garlic nearby for good measure. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if they would help, but since they theoretically worked against werewolves and vampires, respectively, she thought it’d be worth a try. The hours ticked by, and she had just about given up when she heard the familiar knocking pattern that signaled his arrival.

“Darling?”

“Come in, Alastor!” she said, voice honeyed and warm.

She heard a burst of confused static from behind the door and watched as the latch slid open on its own.

“My, what a wonderful reception!” he said brightly, swinging the door open with his usual flair. “Have you finally—" He stopped short, his gaze turning to the semicircle at his feet.

“Is that…salt?” he asked, voice quivering slightly. Lee grabbed her borrowed Bible, flipping to a dog-eared page.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.” A glance confirmed he was still frozen by the door. It was working!

She continued: “He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will—"

“Fear no evil: for thou art with me.” She looked up to see Alastor, calmy standing at the foot of her bed, smiling. She nearly leapt out of her skin.

_“Holy shit!”_

“Psalm 23, excellent choice. It was one of my dear mother’s favorites. I admit I’m confused about these, though,” he said, dropping the garlic and silverware on her bed.

“How did—but—”

He started giggling. “Did you think a bit of salt would be enough to ward me off?” He looked so smug; Lee wanted to throttle him. “My dear, it’s no use having such a pretty smile if it sits on an empty head.”

“Oh, fuck off, will you?” She slammed the Bible shut in frustration.

“It was a valiant effort, sweetheart! And didn’t I warn you to watch your tongue?”

“Didn’t I warn _you_ that there’s no way I’m taking your stupid deal?!”

“Hmm, I suppose you did. But then again, mortal minds are often fickle. And you womenfolk are quite emotional,” he simpered, clearly trying to get a rise out of her.

She sat up straight, trying to make herself look at authoritative as possible, even though she was in bed wearing pajamas with tiny kittens on them.

“Look, I worked retail in _New York City_ ,” she said, “I’ve dealt with assholes like you before, guys who insist on getting their way. But this time, instead of being stuck taking their bullshit, I’m the one in control. I have something you want, not the other way around. And I don’t care how much you sneak up on me, mess with my stuff, or otherwise drive me up the fucking wall, there is _nothing_ you can do that will make me accept your shady-ass offer.”

His grin widened. “Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a promise.”

“Very well.” He turned on his heel, easily stepping over her pathetic line of defense.

“Let’s see if it’s one you can keep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More tension! More conflict! More drama to come, dear readers! 
> 
> This week you'll all be getting a mini-chapter on Halloween as a little treat from yours truly since COVID has shut down most Halloween festivities, at least here in the States. Then next Tuesday I'm posting Chapter 12, which is one of my personal favorites and one of the first scenes that came to life in my brain when I was formulating this story way back in July. 
> 
> Weekly updates will continue until Christmastime, when you might be lucky enough to get multiple chapters a week to mark the occasion ;)
> 
> Stay safe, stay socially distanced, and as always, stay tuned!
> 
> <3 Regina


	11. Loose Lips Sink Ships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first domino falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!

Angel was having a bad day at work.

Not only was his jaw sore from the scene he just finished, one of the production assistants had informed him he’d be doing a DP in a half hour with Castor and Xerxes, and Xerxes was always rougher than the shoot required. He’d put up a fight, obviously, but when he was told Val himself had ordered it, he was shit out of luck.

He sat at his dressing table, wiping the smeared mascara off his face with a grimace. Now he’d have to re-do his whole face, and he was almost out of setting powder. The pulsing music and moans of the other performers were starting to give him a headache, too.

“Hey, Trixie! Got any more powder?” he called over to a curvaceous cat demon, who was in the process of lacing up her thigh-high leather boots.

“Face or nose?” she said with a smirk.

“Both.”

The feline rummaged around in a drawer at her dressing desk and produced a compact full of makeup and a small bag of coke, tossing them over to the exhausted Angel.

“That’ll be $50.”

“Fifty?! You shittin’ me?”

“Hey, I need to get a new corset by Wednesday, I could use the cash. Besides, you owe me for taking that scene with Crusher last month.”

“Fine, fine.” He felt around in his purse for a few bills. She had done him a solid, he supposed: Crusher was all muscle and easy on the eyes, but God _damn_ did that gator not know anything about proper hygiene down there. He handed the money to Trixie, and rolled up one of his remaining bills, spreading the snow in neat rows on the counter. He snorted them up with practiced efficiency, and his eyes rolled back as he felt a wave of pleasure and newfound energy flow through him.

A buzzing in his purse caught his attention. Cherri was calling, no doubt wondering why he hadn’t replied to her last text about going bar-hopping. He picked up the phone.

“Angel! You comin’ out tonight or what?”

“No can do, toots. Boss got me workin overtime.”

“Aww, c’mon. That’s like the third time you’ve cancelled on me,” Cherri grumbled through the receiver.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, it’s not up to me. And trust me, I’d go get shitfaced if I could. I’ve had a crazy couple of weeks.”

“Spill.”

Angel was so busy talking on the phone he hadn’t noticed a new figure join him at the dressing tables, a short demon with a TV monitor for a head. She was an employee on loan from Vox to assist in digital aftereffects for the new VR projects they were shooting, and also one of his many informants.

“You’re not gonna believe this shit. Ya know that dumpy hotel I’m crashing at? Well get this, they got a fuckin _human_.”

The TV demon swiveled her screen towards the coked-out pornstar, who was still chatting away obliviously on the phone, riding high. A new human, in Hell? That certainly seemed like a tidbit of information worth getting to the boss. Maybe even enough to get her a promotion and have her working on some decent shit for once.

“I know, I know!” Angel continued, “I thought it was bullshit too. But bitch, she started bleedin’ at dinner one time and everyone went fuckin nuts. I’m telling ya, she smelled _so good.”_

There was a pause as he listened to her reply.

“Yeah, she’s basically on house arrest. Can’t leave the place. I almost feel bad for her.”

“ANGEL! You’re on set in 20!” a voice called from across the studio.

“FINE!” he hollered back. “Gotta go, sugar tits. I’ll try and get off early tomorrow, ok?”

The TV demon made a swift exit, her phone already dialing the number for Vox’s office. Promotion, here she comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I know it's not a "~spooky~" chapter, but I did want to give y'all a little treat in the spirit of the season! Plus, it was fun trying to put myself in the headspace of another character, I hope I did our favorite spider justice! And more plot is always good ;)
> 
> Chapter 12 is still coming out on Tuesday as per usual. Hope y'all have a wonderful weekend!


	12. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late-night rendezvous changes the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by Chapter 12 of Dapper Dresser by AppleDaddyo, Caffenatedkitti, and NotBrooke! If you haven't read it yet, go do so! It's 450,000+ words of rip-roaring fun, and if I recall correctly they're set to update again on Nov. 5th, so now's a great time to go get caught up. I hope I was able to do the concept justice.
> 
> Enjoy!

Lee woke from yet another dreamless sleep to the sound of someone playing the piano. She glanced at the clock. 2:13 AM.

_Would it kill these people to keep decent hours?_ she thought. She tried to keep to a regular sleep schedule: after all, she was sort of forced to because of Niffty’s insistence on waking up early, but that was clearly not the case for others. Her room was right off of the lobby, one floor above the bar, and she often heard Angel chattering away and flirting with Husk at all hours of the night. This would inevitably lead to Vaggie coming by and shouting at Angel for drinking too much, or for not cleaning up after Fat Nuggets when he had an accident, or for being up too late. She made a mental note to invest in some earplugs.

The song became faster and somehow louder, as though it was being piped directly into her room by a hidden speaker. She groaned and covered her face with her pillow, trying to ignore it. But the playing only got more insistent, mocking her and her attempts to get a good night’s sleep.

Now she was angry. Unlike _some_ people, she had a job to do around here, and she would not let the precious beauty sleep she had earned from busting her ass be stolen from her. She threw off her covers and opened the door only to find the music was still audible in the hall. Blinking in the dim light of the lobby, she stalked down the grand staircase, hell-bent on finding whoever was responsible.

The music was coming, as she’d suspected, from the piano lounge. She opened the door to find none other than Alastor, the infernal bastard, playing a jazzy number with a manic smile as the light of Hell’s strange moon streamed in through the windows.

“Alastor. It’s two in the goddamn morning.” Her voice was still croaky from sleep. He smiled up at her, still playing madly.

“So it is! But one can never control when inspiration strikes, darling!” He was, as usual, too happy and too _loud._

“I know you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what? Entertaining you with some good old-fashioned jazz?” He held her drowsy gaze, fingers flying wildly across the keys.

 _Show-off._ “Can you stop? Please?”

“I don’t know,” He waved his hand in the air, summoning some sort of shadowy doppelganger on the bench next to him. “Can I?”

Lee jumped. The last time she’d seen him use his shadow powers was at her disastrous first dinner. As if to spite her, the piece changed into a rapid ragtime routine, as both he and the shadow pounded the keys mercilessly.

She sighed and sat down on the couch. Clearly, he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Maybe she could find something on TV worth watching. She reached for the remote only to have it fly out of her hands, coming to rest on top of the white baby grand. Alastor’s eyes still hadn’t left her, glowing faintly in the darkness.

Too tired to fight with him, she sat quietly, watching as he finished the piece with a flourish, fingers gliding up and down the keys and finishing with a powerful combination of chords. The creature next to him clapped soundlessly, its curling smile full of sharp teeth as its master took a miniature bow from his seat.

“Not bad.”

“Not _bad?_ Surely you jest!”

“Ok, fine. That was pretty impressive.”

“Well, I should hope so! I pride myself on being the best, after all.” There was that damn ego again. “Tell me, do you play?”

“Not really. My friend tried to teach me some once, but it didn’t go well.” She thought back to the evenings she’d spent at Talia’s house, watching romcoms, eating her mother’s _pho_ and laughing as Talia tried in vain to teach her how to play. “I could never get my left and right hand to play at the same time. Besides, all the white keys look the same to me anyway.”

He stood and gestured to the bench, shadowy companion disappearing as he demanded a demonstration. She rolled her eyes and got up with a huff, walking over to perch awkwardly in front of the piano. She hit a few random keys until she found a note she recognized, then started tapping out the first few bars of Für Elise. She didn’t make it two measures before she hit a sour note.

“See?” she looked up at him. He didn’t say anything, just stared. She could almost see the gears in his head turning as he examined her.

“Well, no wonder!” he said, “Your posture is atrocious! Your feet are supposed to be flat on the ground.”

She yelped when she felt his hands on her shoulders. “Back straight, no need to slouch. Keep your shoulders relaxed.” His hands moved to her arms as he repositioned her. “Elbows just above the keys, keep your wrists nice and loose. Shoulders _relaxed,_ dear, you’re still tense. Now…”

Shadows curled around her feet, pressing them against the pedals. His hands came to rest on top of hers as he loomed over her, static dancing across her skin. Slowly, he began to move, pressing down with his own fingers atop hers as he guided her through the first few bars of the piece at half speed. Icy tendrils of darkness gently pulled her hands across the keyboard as the chords changed and pushed her foot down on the sustain pedal when needed. This time she hit every single note, the two of them carrying on through the piece until the pattern of introductory notes began again.

“Well done.” His breath tickled her ear and she froze. He was close, _far too close._

She jumped up from the bench, scurrying away.

“No offense, but I learn best at normal human hours,” she stuttered slightly. It was as if her face was on fire, and she hoped that in the darkness of the moonlit room he wouldn’t notice. “Thanks, though...”

He gave her a look she couldn’t read, that closed-lipped smile still on his face.

“Then I guess I’ll have to take over, won’t I!”

She groaned in frustration. “Could you at least play something a little less, I don’t know, peppy?”

He paused. “Very well. Go sit down, dear.” With a wave of his hand he summoned a thick book of sheet music.

She returned to the couch as he started to play again, still slightly puzzled by her visceral reaction to his touch. Fear mixed with irritability at him keeping her awake, she supposed. Or maybe it was just that she wasn’t used to having men she didn’t know well that close to her.

To her relief, the song he played was not an upbeat and aggressive improvisation but a slow, soft piece, with clear high notes and warm lower chords. It was a melody she recognized but couldn’t name.

“Chopin. Nocturne, opus nine number two in E flat major,” he offered, as if anticipating her question.

It was beautiful, and as much as she hated to admit it, he played it well, fingers moving deftly across the keys, the pages of sheet music turning automatically for him. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to listen, to imagine she wasn’t here in Hell but in some lounge on the surface somewhere, with a nice man playing this piece especially for her. Her body, once tense with nervous embarrassment, began to relax as the notes wound around the room, threads of pitch meshing together to form a tapestry of sound.

The tempo ebbed and flowed, just irregular enough to be unsuitable for proper dancing but still full of tenderness. Her mind’s eye conjured images of lovers wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying in the deep dark, cloaked in shadow and melody, and she felt an unexpected pang of longing.

All too soon, the piano sang out its final chords.

“That was nice,” she murmured.

“Lie down and I’ll play you another, sweetheart.” Alastor smiled softly, his words honeyed and soothing.

She blinked at him, eyelids unexpectedly heavy.

“You must be tired, after all. Go ahead dear, it’s alright.”

She knew she shouldn’t, that she should get up and go back to her room, but she was so _sleepy_. The couch was soft as she stretched out on it, yawning, and the air in the room was nice and warm. Her limbs felt like they were made of lead. As he began to play again, something in the back of her mind was insistent that this wasn’t right, but she brushed it aside as she made herself comfortable, slowly sliding into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm especially eager to get feedback on this one, as this scene is one of the first that sprang to mind while I was drafting my story and one of my personal favorites. 
> 
> I hope y'all are staying safe and sane, especially on this Tuesday where Big Doings (TM) are happening, at least in America. I love you all, and I hope this story can continue to be a bit of a bright spot in these tumultuous times.
> 
> I'll see you next Tuesday for a chapter that's a little different, but no less fun.
> 
> Stay tuned!
> 
> Regina <3


	13. Meet Your Host

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word of a potential new arrival spreads. A view from the other side of the coin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra big thank you to everyone who commented on last chapter! I'm so happy you liked reading it as much as I liked writing it! I read all your comments at least a dozen times, they're like little candles of happiness in my life.
> 
> Side note: I've updated the tags since this story was first posted ;) give em a look-see if you want.
> 
> I also adored reading all your theories!!! They make me feel like a Real Writer (TM), and I'm glad I've managed to keep you all engaged thus far.
> 
> Now, let's see how right you all were...

In a dark room somewhere in Pentagram City, sinister forces were discussing a delectable rumor.

“And you’re sure that’s what he said?”

A figure sat in an oversized leather chair behind a desk, facing the giant window overlooking the city below.

“I swear, boss. Heard it clear as day,” someone answered nervously.

A pause.

“Hmm, very well, you’re dismissed.” The figure spoke without turning.

The little TV demon rushed out of the room. She had wanted to ask about that promotion, but the way her boss’ colleagues had looked at her made her think twice.

“Well, isn’t this a fascinating little turn of events, Voxy?” a low voice crooned.

“Oh, I hope it’s true!” an excited, feminine voice piped up, “I’d love to play with her. Maybe take some pictures. Oooh, we could go live on Voxtagram while we kill her! I’d get sooooo many views!”

“We are _not_ killing the human.” Vox swiveled around in his chair. “I’m not sure what we’ll end up doing, but she’s worth too much to end up in a snuff film.”

“I hope she’s cute,” Val said with a suggestive raise of his brow, “I’d love to put her in some of my shows. Could tap into those niche markets.”

Vox laughed. “Maybe. We’d have to keep your performers on a tight leash, though.”

“If Val gets to use her, can I at least have a photoshoot with her first? Before she gets all beat up and stuff,” Velvet asked.

“Don’t get ahead of yourselves, my friends,” Vox said, hand in the air to stop their inquiries. “Val, how likely is it that the spider slut is telling the truth?”

“My Angelcakes is usually so out of it after a day on set, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was talking about something he saw on a trip. I could always meet with him in _private_ and find out.” His tone held a touch of malice.

“No, no,” Vox dismissed the suggestion, “We need a more indirect approach.” He frowned, his screen twitching with static as he thought. While extracting information from the hooker would certainly be the easiest course of action, it would also mean alerting the hotel’s other residents of their plans, which included not just the daughter of Hell’s head honcho but a certain striped freak who was a perpetual thorn in his side.

“Velvet, I want only your most trusted sources on this,” he said. “Scour social media, but otherwise keep this between us. That means no posting, even on your alt accounts.”

“Aww, but Voxy—"

“No buts. We don’t want any competition getting a head start. Val, keep a close eye on your boy toy, see if he slips up again.”

He leaned back in his chair, already seeing the TV specials, talk shows, auctions and _dollar signs._

“If she’s real, she can’t hide forever.”

* * *

It had been almost too easy.

Alastor stood over the couch, grinning wildly as he looked down at the sleeping human. All it had taken was a simple suggestion and a bit of magic lacing the keys, and she’d let her guard down completely, a lamb asleep in the lion’s den.

Oh, at first he had loved their little game. Her stubbornness was quite amusing, even if she did step too far over the line occasionally with less than respectful words. She had some moxie in her despite knowing what he had done, no doubt fueled by her false sense of security around him.

But now, as with everything, he was getting _bored_. He had exhausted his list of relatively harmless pranks, incidents she would be too headstrong to report to his business partner and her explosive _amie_. As someone who reveled in the blasphemous, who delighted in indulging the dark, untamed urges of the hearts of men, having to work with both hands tied behind his back, figuratively speaking, had left him feeling creatively muzzled. He supposed he could always switch to more psychologically taxing forms of persuasion, but Vagatha would no doubt argue that breaking someone’s mind still constituted maiming them, even though he wouldn’t have to lay a finger on the poor creature.

A familiar rush of malevolent glee twisted in him as her chest rose and fell slowly. She had been but putty in his hands, and now here she was, laid out and absolutely _helpless_ before him. It would be so easy to reach down and cut her throat, to bottle that precious blood she was so stubbornly refusing to give away.

Tonight, in fact, he had lured her down here to ask her one last time to shake his hand, with plans to send her fleeing back to her room screaming and crying if she refused. But instead, she had offered him another avenue to explore.

He couldn’t have missed the way she tensed when he drew near her, the way her heart quickened as he guided her playing, the slight tremble of her nimble fingers under his. For how filthy her mouth was, he hadn’t expected her to be such a bashful little thing, especially around him of all people. But it was clear: his proximity had gotten to her, and that opened up _so_ _many_ amusing possibilities.

His fingers found her pulse, steady and gentle under those modest millimeters of skin, and he grit his teeth. He could make such a pretty mess of her, splatter and stain the cream wallpaper, indulge to his heart’s content and then dispose of the evidence. Why, he could even leave her alive, drawing just enough to satisfy his baser inclinations and give his clients a taste of the goods he hoped to soon have on offer, with her awaking none the wiser. Alas, he was bound by dear Charlotte’s blasted orders, and his word was his bond.

Idly, he tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. Her face was so relaxed, free of the glowers and scowls she offered up in response to his antics. Though he was a man of many vices, patience was one of the few virtues he’d always possessed. He could work with this. He’d have to tread carefully, given her obvious reluctance and distaste for him, but that in itself was a fresh new challenge. Maybe he’d keep her around a while; that fiery spirit of hers was a welcome change from the sheer terror or obvious brown-nosing he was usually met with.

 _Oh yes,_ he thought, as he turned to leave the lounge.

_This is going to be very entertaining._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehehe...
> 
> This chapter has gone through so many revisions and edits, it's been a bit of a nightmare. But I finally pulled it into a suitable state! 
> 
> Getting to dive into Alastor's headspace was so fun, but also really hard, as I want to keep him as in-character as possible but don't have much confirmed info on him outside the pilot, comic and wiki. Still, I have some other sources of inspiration I use to get into the mindset I need to write my interpretation of him, which helped. I can expound on that in the comments if you're interested in my process but otherwise I won't bore you.
> 
> See you all next week! :D


	14. Two Weeks' Notice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee reflects on last night. Charlie checks in with her mortal guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday! Bit of a short one this week again but I promise the next two will be longer. Enjoy!

Lee awoke to the sensation of being poked in the side. Her eyes slid open and she felt a momentary shock as she registered she was not in her room but still in the piano lounge, with an irritated Niffty trying to wake her.

“Finally! I’ve been trying to get you to wake up for almost two minutes now!” Lee groggily thought that two minutes wasn’t a long time, but given how fast Niffty did everything, it was probably an eternity to her. “What are you doing in here, anyway?”

“I couldn’t sleep so I came down here to watch some TV and relax.” The lie slipped out without a second thought. “I guess it worked too well.”

“Well, go get dressed! We’ve got a lot to do today!” The little cyclops rushed off, leaving her alone once more.

Lee stretched, feeling surprisingly well rested. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told her new friend the truth, but chalked it up to not wanting to be reprimanded about how being alone with Alastor was obviously a terrible idea. That, and the fact that Angel would poke fun at her for weeks if he found out she was alone with anyone at that time of night. The last thing she needed was him making lewd remarks about her and Alastor of all people.

_Alastor_. He was an infuriating enigma. She had gotten used to his pranks, his scares, his juvenile antics. She now anticipated his dramatic gestures and tendency to showboat as he told stories that sounded too outrageous to be true. But last night? That had been something entirely unexpected. And while it was a welcome change from his regular nonsense, if she was perfectly honest it had left her slightly terrified.

She could deal with a persistent sonofabitch who treated her like the unwilling audience to his twisted one-man show. She could _not_ deal with a man who played piano for her in a moonlit room, who drew close to her without hesitation, who said sweet words that actually sounded sincere.

_It was a fluke, nothing more,_ she thought. _He probably just wanted to mess with me._

Yes, that sounded like a reasonable explanation. It was also one that made her skin prickle with anger. Oh, he could play the part of the charming gentleman all he wanted, but she knew the truth: he was nothing but a hedonistic bastard looking for another source of entertainment. And she wasn’t going to dance for him like a puppet on a string.

She stalked out of the lounge, scowling.

* * *

After a long day of work, Lee wanted nothing more than to have a nice, relaxing evening. She could scour the library for more books on travel between worlds, grab a drink with Husk, or just chill out and watch something on Voxflix. Her plans were cut short, however, when Charlie caught her arm in the lobby and asked her to step into her office.

“What’s up?” she asked, sitting down in the chair in front of her desk. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no! I just wanted to check in and see if you were doing ok. You’ve been here for two weeks now, after all.”

Lee blinked. Had it really been two weeks already?

“I’m adjusting as well as I can, I guess. Mostly I’m trying to keep myself distracted so I don’t have a mental breakdown,” she said with a nervous laugh.

In truth, she’d had several episodes already where she’d broken down crying, but thankfully none were around any of the other hotel residents. They seemed to hit her hardest late at night, when she was alone in the dark. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that she was back in her shitty apartment on the surface. But she’d always hear something amiss: Angel’s voice in the hall, a distant explosion, a scream from the street below, and be reminded of how vulnerable and alone she truly was.

“When I moved to New York City, I was suddenly miles away from everyone I’ve ever known and loved. It was hard being on my own for the first month or so, but I eventually learned to cope with it. I guess I’m trying to do the same thing now that I’m here.”

“I’m so sorry, Lee. I can’t even imagine.”

Her gaze fell as she tugged on the hem of her shirt, tears starting to well in her eyes. “It’s the little things I find myself missing, y’know? Like a blue sky or a silly text from a friend. Heck, even getting to talk shit about terrible customers with my coworkers sounds like heaven right now.”

She looked up to see Charlie reaching across the desk with a soft smile. She placed her hands in hers, and the demoness gave her a warm squeeze.

“I want you to know that for as long as you’re here, if you need someone to talk to, you can always come to me.”

Lee sniffled. “Thanks, Charlie. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’ve taken me in.”

“Are you kidding? I’m the one who should be thanking you!”

She looked at her in confusion.

“Niffty’s absolutely adores having someone to chat with while she works, and even though the old grouch will never admit it, Husk loves playing cards with you. Especially when you lose.” She gave her a wry smile. “You even managed to get Angel to cook _and_ clean up after himself, which is basically a miracle.”

She snorted. “I think it was more fear that his grandmother would come down here and make his afterlife miserable if he didn’t intervene.”

“Regardless, you’ve been a good influence around here, and I appreciate it.” Now it was Charlie’s turn to look away. “Most people think I’m crazy, trying to reform demons. Vaggie’s the only one who’s ever really believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. And I know it’s not much, but any progress is good to see, and it gives me hope that redemption is possible.”

“Charlie, I don’t know much about how Hell works, or magic, or different worlds, or any of it,” Lee admitted. “But I’ve seen how hard you and Vaggie work. If there’s anyone who can get a demon sent to Heaven, it’s you.”

Charlie’s eyes widened in mild shock.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do.”

Faster than she could blink, Lee found herself on her feet and wrapped up in one of Charlie’s famous hugs. She was literally bouncing with excitement.

“Thank you! I know it’s going to work! It just takes some time and effort, that’s all!” Charlie pulled back. “Oh, I almost forgot to ask you! I was planning on taking Vaggie out on a date tonight and wanted to check to see if you’d be okay without us around.”

“I’ll be fine, no worries. Go show your lady a good time!” Lee winked.

“Cool beans.” Charlie gave her a beaming smile and a thumbs-up.

As she closed the office door, a mixture of happiness and apprehension swirled in her chest. It was nice knowing Charlie was firmly in her corner, but her offer of being a shoulder to cry on should she need it left her feeling guilty. Had she made the right decision not to tell her and Vaggie about Alastor’s antics? Did she know anyway, and was her offer actually her subtly hinting to Lee to come clean? She had no idea, but decided then and there that next time he was bothering her, she would go to Charlie right away.

After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you guys hate me for these semi-cliffhangers by now, BUT next week we get to see a bit of a change in dynamic between our heroine and everyone's favorite Radio Demon! And after that I have an extra-long chapter for y'all to kick off December :) A lot is going to go down in December, partially because of extra holiday chapters I have written, because we reach the Act One climax, and because this year's been shit and I want to end it for you guys on a bit of a good note.
> 
> I've been in a bit of a writing slump this month, to be perfectly honest. I tried to do NaNoWriMo, but that fell through immediately because of school, work and life stuff (in addition to fic I'm writing a draft of my Masters thesis proposal, oh joy :P). I'm just starting to get back in the groove though thanks to my 120+ song writing playlist, which has songs for diff. characters, scenes I've written and upcoming scenes, characters at certain points of the story, etc. If y'all are curious about it, feel free to ask away in the comments, or if you have music recs please let me know!
> 
> One of my favorite things about becoming a fledging fic writer is getting to talk to all of you, as well as read your work! So if you're a fellow writer, artist, etc, feel free to let me know and plug your work in the comments as I'd love to see what wonderful things y'all have made :D and as always I welcome any and all theories, questions, requests, suggestions, etc. 
> 
> See you next week! <3


	15. And Now for Something Completely Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee's relationship with the Radio Demon takes an unexpected turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what it says on the tin. :)

If Lee was entirely honest, she was a bit nervous about her guardian demon being unavailable for the evening. But she hadn’t seen Alastor all day, thank God, and she figured there was only so much damage Angel could cause without their supervision. Content, she heated up some leftovers for dinner and made her way to the hotel’s library for a quiet evening of research.

The library was big, but unfortunately most of its selection of books on the occult were written in a language Lee had never seen before. She’d collected and been slogging her way through the English titles: “Potion-Making 101,” “Curses and You,” and “Screwtape’s Guide to Tempting Mortals,” to name a few, but thus far hadn’t been able to find much on souls returning to the world of the living, let alone how her soul got pulled from her body in the first place.

She was beginning to get frustrated. In all of human history, this must have happened before, and surely someone would have figured out how to fix it. But sadly, such answers seemed to elude her for now. At least the books on magic were interesting. It surprised her just how many powers demons could have: teleportation, pyromancy, shapeshifting, even the ability to conjure minions and other lesser beings.

A thought formed at the back of her mind. If demons down here were able to use magic, was she able to use it too? A thrill ran through her. Having some sort of magic powers would certainly make her stay in Hell more bearable and could even help her get back to the surface. She eagerly pulled one of the books on magic out of the pile, flipping to a page on simple spells.

“Object Attraction: This is one of the easiest spells for a novice sinner to learn as it requires no ingredients or special incantations. Rather, one must simply apply their force of will,” she read. “Keep the object in your line of sight and command it to come to you; an outstretched talon can help direct the force of your desire but is not necessary to complete the spell. Even sinners with the most marginal of magical aptitudes should be able to perform this feat with enough practice.”

_Well, that sounds simple enough._

She placed the spell-book on the armchair she had been sitting in and moved to stand a few feet away. Stretching out her hand, she pictured the book flying towards her, moving at her will.

“Come to me!” she said.

No dice.

“Please?”

The book still didn’t budge.

“Uh, abracadabra! Wingardium leviosa! Use the Force!”

Zip. Zilch. Nada.

She let out a frustrated groan. Of course she had to fail at a spell specifically designed for noobs.

 _One more time_ , she thought, gritting her teeth in frustration. She reached out towards the book, bracing herself and focusing her gaze on it so hard her head started to hurt. It could have been her imagination, but she swore she could feel a tingle of power rush through her arms.

“I command you, move!” Her words came out in almost a snarl.

The book sat perfectly still.

Until slowly,

Slowly,

It lifted from the chair and stayed suspended in mid-air, defiant of both logic and gravity, before flying into her hands.

_Holy shit._

Lee looked at the book in disbelief, then clutched it to her chest, jumping around and fist-pumping in victory.

“HELL YEAH!!! I’m a fucking _wizard_ , baby!” She gave the book a kiss on its worn leather cover. “I’m a Jedi! I’m magic!” she said in a sing-song voice, absolutely giddy. “I’m— _WHOA!”_

She pitched forward as the book began pulling away from her. Desperate to keep it in her grasp, she dug her heels into the carpet, only to have the book’s pull change directions. She lost her balance and fell to the floor, momentarily dazed.

“Careful, dear!”

That voice.

That _fucking_ voice.

“You should know better than to play with forces beyond your control.”

She looked up to see Alastor leaning against the doorframe, book in hand.

_God dammit._

“You _bastard_ ,” she got to her feet, “why did you do that?”

“To give you a sense of pride and accomplishment, of course!” He strolled past her, his invisible audience clapping as he placed the book back in its spot on the shelf. His shadow stretched up from the ground, a curled smile on its face as it shook in silent laughter. “As much as I love watching people fail, your efforts were so pathetic that I actually began to pity you. So I thought, why not throw you a bone?”

“So, I don’t have powers,” she said with a tinge of disappointment.

“Of course not! There isn’t an ounce of magical potential in you.”

_“Don’t feel down though, doll! Nobody’s perfect!”_

“AHH!” Lee jumped at the sound of an upbeat, staticky voice.

“Ah, yes, I forgot you two hadn’t met!” Alastor said, extending his microphone towards her. She took a step back as an eye cracked open and the device began to glow. “Lee, this is Mick. Mick, Lee.”

_“Pleased to meet you, darling!”_

“Wait so… it’s like… alive?”

 _“Yes and no!”_ the microphone replied cheerily. _“Though I prefer not to be called an ‘it,’ thank you very much.”_

“Sorry…”

“Much like my shadowy friend here,” Alastor said as his shadow curled around him, its claws digging into his shoulders slightly, “Mick is a part of myself.”

“That’s… kinda weird.”

_“Says the human in Hell!”_

“That’s enough, Mick.” Alastor said, tapping the microphone. The eye slid shut once more as its glow dissipated. “No need to be rude.”

“No, he’s got a point.” She sat back down in her armchair, feeling deflated. “God, I’m really screwed, aren’t I? No cool powers, no wings, no claws. Just blood that turns people into piranhas.”

“Starving wolves is more accurate, but yes!”

“You’re not helping,” she deadpanned.

“Oh, lighten up, sweetheart! I was just indulging in one last jape at your expense before generously offering you my services,” he said with a flourish.

“Not this shit again, Al.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Al? Someone’s gotten _familiar,_ hasn’t she?”

“ _Alastor_ , then.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m still not taking your deal.”

“I never said I minded your familiarity, dear,” he said, waltzing over to where she sat. “But I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I simply wanted to offer you some help, no strings attached!”

“You what now?”

“You aren’t reading these dusty old books for leisure, I assume?” he continued, gesturing idly with his microphone, “If I were a betting man, I’d say you’re trying to find a way out of Hell on your own! But alas, you seem to be looking in all the wrong places! As it so happens, I am a collector of sorts when it comes to rare and precious tomes, and I would be glad to lend you access to my personal library.”

“Uh… why?”

“To be frank, it’s because we appear to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I’ve been far from the gentleman my mother raised me to be and would like to make amends.” He gave her a winning smile.

“And to do that you’re going to help me get back to the surface?”

“I’m going to offer you more books to sift through, nothing more,” he corrected her. “In terms of returning your soul to your body, I’m not sure such a thing is possible. But I suppose you never know until you try!”

She paused. This didn’t sit right with her, and she didn’t buy his line about wanting to make amends for a second. He was a conniving demon who was literally out for her blood, and she trusted him about as far as she could throw him. But she had been hitting dead end after dead end, and the offer he made was a tempting one.

“And there’d be no funny business, no last-minute clauses, no handshake?”

“None at all.”

She sighed. “Fine. You can help if you want,” she said, before adding, “But no deals!”

“Marvelous!” he exclaimed, grabbing her arm and lifting her to her feet. She let out a startled cry as he spun her out dramatically, his internal radio playing a snippet of some jazzy tune. “Oh, this is going to be the start of a wonderful thing, darling!” He grinned from ear to ear as he pulled her towards him again, “ _Just you wait_.”

She froze, flush against his chest for a heartbeat before she scrambled out of his grip.

“Do stop by my office whenever you’d like.” His eyes were hooded. “I’m looking forward to it already.” He ruffled her hair in a strange show of affection as he left, the door closing on its own behind him.

* * *

Alastor was still acting weird.

Weirder than usual, at least. Over the past few weeks, there had been no practical jokes, no midnight visits, not even a biting remark at her expense. It was as if he had pulled a total 180.

There were also strange happenings that she couldn’t explain. For example, she’d find a hot meal waiting for her after a long day of work, or she’d go to fold the hotel’s freshly washed linens only to find them already pressed and organized. On one occasion, she came back to her room to find a beautiful bouquet of red and white roses in a vase on her nightstand, complete with an anonymous note thanking her for all her hard work. Needless to say, she was starting to get a bit freaked out. 

Which was exactly why she was marching towards Charlie’s office, determined to keep the demon princess in the loop this time around. She knocked on the door.

“It’s open, come in!” she heard Vaggie’s voice call out. Lee opened it to see her and Charlie sitting next to each other behind the desk, going over a small mountain of paperwork.

“Alastor’s being nice to me and I don’t like it,” she said in a rush, shutting the door behind her.

The two demonesses blinked at her.

“What?!” they exclaimed.

“Lee, that’s great news! Oh my gosh, Vaggie, what if this means he’s really starting to change!” Charlie, ever the optimist, beamed at her girlfriend.

“I doubt it, babe. Sounds more like he’s planning something.”

“I’m with Vaggie on this one. He’s up to something, but I can’t figure out what. What should I do?”

“Well…” Charlie said, “I can’t get mad at him for being too _nice_ , can I? What happened?”

“Before it was just his usual bullshit. Appearing out of thin air, pulling pranks, being weirdly touchy-feely,” she said, deliberately omitting the details of his offer to her, “But that all stopped a while ago. He’s being polite, he’s respectful, I think he’s even been secretly helping me get my work done. Hell, he got me flowers, for fuck’s sake! It’s so _weird_.”

“Did he say why?” Vaggie asked.

“He mentioned something about us getting off on the wrong foot and ‘not being the gentleman his mother raised him to be.’” Vaggie rolled her eye at that.

“I mean, that’s possible. But I think you might be right,” Charlie frowned, a hint of worry in her voice. “I’ll see if I can get him to talk about it, but I’m not sure how that’ll go. In the meantime, be on your guard and let us know if he does anything, ok?”

“Alright. Y’know, I never thought I’d say it, but I almost miss him being a jerk. At least that way he’d be more predictable.”

“You want me to stab him for you?” Vaggie asked, pulling a knife out of thin air.

“NO!” Lee said a little too quickly. “No, I mean, if he goes back to being annoying, _definitely_ , but right now I don’t want to piss him off.”

“Fine,” she said with a twinge of disappointment, her knife vanishing once again.

As Lee left the office, she felt no better about the predicament she found herself in. All she knew is she didn’t believe Alastor’s change of heart for a second. Was this his way of trying to sweet talk her into a deal? Or was he trying to get her to let her guard down, only to trick her into something far more nefarious?

Either way, she wasn’t going to let him win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this! I'm not great at writing comedic elements but thought I'd add some in just for fun. This chapter also went through a recent revision as I was doing some research on psychology and psychoanalytical theories of the 1900s-1930s, and decided to incorporate some not-so-subtle id, ego and superego elements to Al's characterization. Fun fact, the id also corresponds with the Jungian concept of the "shadow self" ;) 
> 
> Extra special thanks to everyone who's been commenting over the past couple weeks! Y'all keep me going! Next chapter we see our protag go on a very special mini-adventure with far-reaching consequences. Tick, tick, tick, tick...
> 
> Have a great day, see you next week! <3


	16. Get In Sinners, We're Going Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee ventures outside the hotel for the first time since her fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer than usual chapter this week! Why? Because I love you, that's why.
> 
> Also, we broke 200 kudos last week! Not sure how y'all keep finding me, whether it's just by chance or if people are sharing this story with their fandom friends, but either way I'm very grateful. Heartfelt hugs and many thanks to each and every one of you!
> 
> Finally, there's some things I wanna talk about in the end notes, so please stick around for that.  
> 
> 
> Content Warning: Descriptions/depictions of prior sexual assault, denoted in italics

Lee was starting to go a little stir crazy.

She had been stuck in the hotel for well over a month now, and though she could always step outside into the enclosed safety of the inner courtyard, it wasn’t the same as being able to come and go as she pleased. She’d exhausted all the useful books in the hotel’s library the day before, played and lost many rounds of cards with Husk, and listened to Angel’s disgusting tales of workplace incidents he deemed “funny” over drinks for too many nights in a row. She didn’t even have the excitement of dealing with Alastor’s shenanigans, given that he was keeping up his suspiciously good behavior.

To put it mildly, she was _bored._

She decided to broach the subject right after lunch, when Charlie and Vaggie seemed to be the least busy. They were hanging out in the lobby, Charlie on her computer, Vaggie sitting next to her but keeping her eye on the bar where Husk was drinking himself into oblivion. 

“Hey guys, I have a bit of a weird request,” she said, sitting opposite them.

“What’s up?” Vaggie asked.

“I haven’t seen much of Hell since I got here, and I’m pretty sure if I stay locked up in this hotel, I’ll go insane. So, I was wondering… can I please go out today?” Her last words came out all in a rush. They looked at her with surprise, and she quickly added, “Husk or Angel can go with me! I’ll put on my hoodie and keep my hands in my pockets. No one will see that I’m human, I promise. Please?”

“No way,” Vaggie said. “Someone’ll notice, and once they figure out what you are, it’s all over.”

“Vaggie’s right,” Charlie said. “I know it sucks being cooped up, but this is the only place we can keep you safe. Even if I were to go out with you, I’d have to go full demon if anything went wrong, and I really hate doing that.”

“What if I sat in the car and watched as you drove around? No one would see me!” She hated to beg, but if she had to spend one more day in this gilded cage she’d snap.

“I’m sorry, but it’s too much of a risk.”

Lee knew they were right, but she hated their answers anyway. In New York she’d been able to explore the city at her leisure, to slip in and out of crowds unnoticed. She hadn’t appreciated it before, but now that she was here and she stuck out like a sore thumb, she felt nostalgic for something as simple as stopping by the bodega or taking the subway.

“Pardon me, ladies.”

Lee stiffened as a presence loomed over her shoulder.

“I couldn’t help but listen in on your little disagreement. I think I might be able to help!” Alastor continued as he moved to sit next to her on the couch, stretching out just a little too close for comfort.

“No way, shitlord,” Vaggie bristled.

“What did you have in mind, Al?” Charlie asked a bit more charitably.

“A change of costume, of course! Allow me to demonstrate.”

He grabbed Lee by the jaw, turning her to face him. She was painfully aware of how close they were, and she tried to scoot back a bit, but his grip was firm. She could have sworn she saw his grin widen just a fraction as that familiar nervous feeling settled in her stomach. He snapped his fingers, tearing a small gash in the leather covering his pointer finger with the metal “nail” of his gloved thumb. A bead of red-black blood began to pool there, seeping up from the skin underneath. He reached up and she tried not to shiver as he traced some sort of symbol on her forehead. The skin there almost felt like it was beginning to warm up, but it could have been her imagination.

He leaned back, as if to admire his handiwork. “Now _there’s_ a demon belle!”

“I don’t feel any— _AHHH!”_

A wave of primal panic surged through her as she caught a glimpse of grey skin and long, black fingernails.

He laughed and produced a hand mirror out of thin air. “Take a look.”

“WHOA!”

Her face was the same shade of grey as her hands, her hair was an unnatural, candy-apple red, and the whites of her eyes were now pitch black. Her jaw dropped in shock, revealing a row of sharp, serrated teeth. A pair of black horns jutted out of the top of her head, which she reached up to touch in disbelief.

“What did you do to me?!” she asked, chest tightening as the stranger in the mirror's lips moved in time with her words.

“Relax, dear. It’s just a glamour, temporary and completely safe!”

_Thank God it's not permanent..._

“How long does it last?” 

“About eight hours, give or take. Do you like it?”

“It’s… alright,” she said as he moved the mirror away. In truth, it was more than a bit disturbing to not recognize her own reflection, but there was no way she was going to let him know that.

“Just think of it as a kindness from yours truly.”

Now _that_ sounded like bullshit to her. If she had learned anything about Alastor, it was that he never did anything unless there was something in it for him. What was the catch?

“No! No, no, no, I am not ok with this!” Vaggie said, shooting a death glare at Alastor. “It’s too dangerous. Change her back, now!”

“No can do, darling. Glamours are nigh impossible to reverse without the proper ingredients. I’m afraid our mortal friend is stuck like this until the spell wears off,” he smirked.

“ _Pinche cabr_ _ón hijo de puta—"_ Vaggie was literally tearing her hair out in rage.

“Can I please go out now? Please? Just for a walk around the block!” Lee still didn’t like this turn of events, but figured she might as well take advantage of it.

“That sounds like a splendid idea! I’d be delighted to accompany you for a stroll!”

 _“NO!”_ All three women shouted at once. Alastor just smiled.

“Very well. In that case, I will send one of my companions in my stead.” He waved his hand and a pool of shadow formed on the floor, growing and rising into a tall, bloblike form with huge white eyes.

“This is Umbra. She’ll accompany you on your day out.” The shadow creature extended a stubby appendage in what looked like a wave.

“Uh, won’t that be a little noticeable?” Lee asked, eyeing the creature with curiosity.

“Not at all! She’ll simply hitch a ride on your own shadow, and no one will be the wiser. Umbra, if you please?” The creature slid across the floor silently and melted into the small shadow by Lee’s feet.

 _That’s actually kinda cool,_ she thought. She was reminded of the Peter Pan movie she watched growing up, the one where Peter’s shadow had a mind of its own.

“Please, Charlie? I’ll be back before dark, I promise!” Lee gave the princess her best puppy dog eyes.

“Well… alright. But you have to take Husk or Angel along!”

“YES!” Lee sprang from her seat and practically tackled her in a hug. “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”

“What’s the—holy shit!” Angel exclaimed from the staircase. He bounded down and took Lee by the shoulders, as if not believing what he saw, his other pair of hands squishing her cheeks.

“Did you guys let her die or somethin’?”

“Of course not, my effeminate fellow! I’ve simply applied a touch of magic to alter her appearance for a spell,” Alastor preened.

“It’s like a disguise, Angel,” Lee said, pulling away from his grip.

Angel looked her up and down. “Ya couldn’t have given her a bigger rack? _Bor-ing!_ ”

“Angel!” Lee hissed.

“It’s funny you say that! I thought about giving her antlers but decided against it. This suits her much better!” The comment seemed to fly completely over Alastor’s head.

Angel grinned. “But ya still made her ‘horny’, didn’t ya, Smiles?” He grabbed Lee by the horn and shook her a bit for good measure.

“ANGEL!” She gave him a shove. “Stop that!”

“Yes, it appears I did,” he said. Lee thought he had thankfully missed the double meaning, but when he shot her a wink, she just about melted into the floor in embarrassment.

“Anyway,” Charlie interjected, “Lee wants to go out for a bit, and needs someone to go with her. Would you be up for that, Angel?”

“I ain’t no babysitter,” he scoffed.

“We can go shopping…” Lee said, doing her best to sell the idea. Angel put one hand to his chin while the others rested on his hips, considering her offer.

“That the best ya can do?”

“I’ll buy you something.”

His eyes lit up. “Well, why didn’t ya say so, toots! Lemme get my purse!”

* * *

“Angel, I absolutely cannot afford that,” Lee said, eyeing the pair of thigh-high designer boots her shopping companion held out to her expectantly.

“Aww, c’mon, you said you’d buy me something! I wouldn’t have come if I knew you were such a cheap bitch.”

“I’m not made of money, Angel.” While Lee had saved up a bit from her work at the hotel, it was nowhere close to the shoes’ hefty price tag. “Can you see if you can find something a little less… fancy?”

“Fiiiiine,” he groaned, putting the shoes back.

This was the fifth store Angel had dragged her into, and the first one that had actually suited the spider’s particular tastes. A part of her felt a bit bitter that her big day out had been co-opted, but she was mostly just glad to be out of the hotel.

Shopping in Hell was much like shopping on the surface, with a few notable exceptions. The first was the wider range of styles and sizes of clothes, given that they had to be made to fit a variety of strange proportions, some of which included having extra limbs. There were also no anti-theft tags on any of the merchandize that she could see, but the gigantic alligator demons standing guard by the entrance were probably enough in terms of loss prevention. Finally, there was far more variety in just one store than she’d seen anywhere else, with corsets and hoop skirts sharing floor space with leotards and thongs.

“Hey, I’m gonna try something on real quick!” she heard Angel call out as she inspected some of the less expensive shoes.

Finding that all the styles she liked were either too big or too small, she moved on to the sleepwear section. She only had one pair of pajamas, and it would be nice to get another. She thumbed through the racks absentmindedly. The store wasn’t busy, thankfully, so she felt she could let her guard down a bit, especially now that she blended in. If it hadn’t been for the grey color of her hands and the hellish lyrics of the song playing softly from the speakers above her, she could almost imagine she was back in New York, searching the racks of the thrift store for a great find.

One particular nightgown was decorated with adorable three-headed puppies, which made her smile. She grabbed it only to hear a disappointed voice behind her say:

“A nightgown? What are ya, 80?”

“I just thought it was cute Ang—WHOA!” Lee turned to see Angel Dust wearing lingerie, price tags still attached. She felt herself turn beet red.

“Angel, we’re in public!” she hissed at him. _“Put your fucking clothes on!”_

“Why? I like how these look on me, and I don’t mind givin’ people a lil eye candy.” He swayed his hips, one hand gripping the thick tuft of fur on his chest.

Lee was about to tell him off, but paused when she eyed a patch of purple discoloration on his side. A bruise?

“I found some for you too, toots!” he added, holding out a lacy black set of undergarments.

“I’m _not_ buying that.”

“Come onnnnn, at least try ‘em on!” He gave her a devilish grin. “Otherwise I’m walkin’ out of here dressed like this.”

 _Oh, you have_ got _to be kidding me._

She rolled her eyes. “Will you put on your damn clothes if I do?”

“Scout’s honor!” He gave her two thumbs up.

“ _…fine_ ,” she huffed, snatching the underwear from his grasp.

 _The shit I put up with to get some time away_ , she thought as she stalked back towards the dressing room.

After a bout of grumbling and some fiddling with the hooks on the bra, Lee stood in front of the mirror in the dressing room, feeling absolutely ridiculous.

“How’s it look, toots?” she heard Angel ask from the other side of the door.

“Like something I’d never buy myself.”

“Lemme see—"

“NO! Angel you absolutely cannot!” She’d put up with some of his antics, but that was a bridge too far.

“How else will you know if it looks good?”

“It doesn’t matter because no one’s gonna see it!” she snapped.

“Jeez, fine. Don’t get ya panties in a twist,” he muttered. “I’m gonna go look at the jackets.”

Truly alone now, Lee inspected herself in the mirror. While it certainly wasn’t her style, it seemed to fit her well, and the black of the lace looked nice on her newly grey skin. A small part of her whispered to buy it, which she brushed aside. It’d probably sit in her drawer unused until she found her way home, and she hated wasting money. Normally she’d run her new outfit choices by Talia or another one of her girlfriends back home, even if it was just by texting a photo for their approval. But she had no such luxury here.

Or did she?

“Hey, Umbra?” she whispered, half expecting nothing to happen. The shadow rose from the floor and blinked at her with wide, white eyes.

“Can I get your opinion, lady to lady?” she asked, feeling a bit silly. Umbra nodded.

“Does this look ok?” She turned once more in the mirror, trying to look at herself from every angle. Umbra gave her a thumbs up.

“Hmm…” Even though no one would see it, she did feel nice in them. And since she’d always worn her fanciest underthings whenever she needed a secret confidence boost back on the surface, what was the harm of having some here for when she felt extra shitty?

“I think I’ll get them,” she said. Umbra clapped soundlessly in appreciation.

She paused. “You’re not gonna tell Al about this, are you?” If he knew she was buying these, she had no doubt he’d make fun of her for weeks, streak of good behavior be damned.

Umbra shrugged. She moved over to the mirror, which immediately fogged up with condensation. The creature deliberately spelled out the word “JOB.”

“So, you’re like one of his spies?”

Umbra nodded.

“Why does Alastor need spies anyway?” she asked with a frown. “From what I’ve seen he can crush pretty much anyone who tries to mess with him.”

Umbra shook her head and spelled out “ENEMIES,” followed by “STRONGER.”

“Really?” With his reputation, she hadn’t considered he would have any enemies worth worrying about. The fact that there were demons down here that made even Alastor feel like he had to watch his back disturbed her greatly, thought it was nice knowing the arrogant bastard wasn’t invincible.

“Well, what I buy with my own money hardly seems worth reporting back on. So, can we keep this between us?”

The shadow seemed to consider her words, then winked and mimed closing a zipper over her nonexistent mouth.

“Thanks,” she said as Umbra melted back into the floor.

She changed back into her clothes and grabbed the underwear set, leaving the privacy of the dressing room once more. When she got to the checkout, she found Angel already waiting there, holding a new black and pink jacket with four long sleeves.

“What took ya so long?” he said with a grin, “You decide you like ‘em?”

“Maybe…”

“Hah!” He puffed out his fluffy chest in victory. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya, toots.”

She winced at the checkout total, but thankfully she had enough on her debit card to cover it. As they exited the store, bags in her hand (which was a bit unfair, considering Angel had six arms), a genuine smile crept onto her face. It was so nice to have a touch of normalcy.

The November air was cool against her skin as they walked back to the hotel. Amusingly, Angel occasionally got wolf whistles or suggestive shouts from passers-by, which he responded to with a wink or a middle finger, depending on who was commenting. Lee didn’t mind though; she was just happy the attention wasn’t on her for once.

They were about halfway home when Angel stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes fixed on something across the street she couldn’t place.

“Wait here a minute. Gotta buy something real quick,” he muttered, not giving her a chance to respond before he rushed off. She felt a little less secure without her spidery companion as she leaned against the wall of one of the shops lining the sidewalk, watching creatures pass by.

Being out and about had given her a strange sense of peace. Hell reminded her a lot of the seedier areas of New York, and it was nice to be anonymous again. She wondered if it had always been like this, or if the underworld evolved as the times changed.

 _Maybe this place isn’t so bad,_ she thought. _I mean, it’s rough for sure, but it doesn’t seem torturous._

A sharp tug on her arm pulled her out of her reverie.

“Gimme the stuff, slut.” She gasped, looking up to see a hyena-headed demon holding a switchblade, tugging on her shopping bags.

“Hey! Let go!” she said with a grunt, struggling to keep her grip. “Angel!” she cried out. The hyena ripped the bags out of her hands with almost superhuman strength. Hot terror flooded through every cell in her body, her false sense of security wiped away in an instant.

“This is Hell, bitch! Ain’t no angels here to save you,” he sneered. “Where’s your wallet?”

 _“ANGEL!”_ she screamed. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, her hair standing on end.

The thief shoved her against the wall, one hand gripping her hair and knocking her head back with enough force that she saw stars.

The world froze.

_She was back in the dark again, music muffled by the closet door, as a voice insisted she stop being such a tease._

_“I thought you liked me?” There was an anger in him that made her skin crawl. “Isn’t that why you decided to come?”_

_“I— we aren’t even dating though!” she protested. She tried to brush past him, only feet away from escape, but he yanked her backwards by her hair._

_“Fucking bitch.” The pulse of the music shook her bones as he pressed her against the wall, shoving his tongue down her throat. His leg forced her knees apart._

_She didn’t want this._

There was movement, and reality snapped back into place.

“You fuckin—" She closed her eyes as the thief reared back, switchblade coming down towards her throat. But the impact never came.

She cracked an eye open to see Umbra, now less of a blob and more of a terrifying beast with sharp teeth and long claws, holding the hyena’s arm in her firm grip. She let out a deep, terrifying roar that shook the ground, and flung the would-be thief against the pavement with such force that she heard something snap. The hyena cried out in pain.

“What the _fuck?!?_ ” He looked up at Umbra with eyes full of disbelief and fear. Umbra’s jaws opened impossibly wide, as though she was set to swallow him whole. The thought made Lee sick.

“Umbra, don’t!” she cried, grabbing the beast’s strangely tangible shoulder. The shadow looked at her with confusion as the hyena scrambled to his feet, limping away as fast as he could.

Umbra cocked her head to the side, as if to ask her why she’d stopped her.

“I didn’t wanna see a guy get eaten today,” she said weakly, grabbing her fallen shopping.

Her phantom companion shrugged and disappeared once more.

“Toots! What happened?” Angel asked as he jogged towards her, tucking something small in his jacket pocket.

“What _happened?!_ I almost got mugged!” she cried, body still on high alert. “Where the fuck were you?!”

He paused, as though he was thinking of the best way to answer her.

“I had some business ta take care of.”

“Well, I hope it was fucking worth it.” She started to turn away when he grabbed her by the shoulder.

“Look, Lee, I’m sorry, alright? But this is Hell, ya gotta be on your guard at all times!” he gestured at the creatures that surrounded them. “The baddest motherfuckers on Earth are all down here, trying to fuck each other over.”

“You were supposed to look out for me though! What if I had started bleeding? I’d be in ribbons!”

“I know, I know. I fucked up, ok? I’ll make it up to ya, promise. Just… please don’t tell Charlie and Vaggie?” he asked with a hint of desperation.

She paused. She was pissed and wanted nothing more than to march home and have Vaggie tear him a new one. But then again, Charlie’s vision for the hotel was all about second chances, right? And Umbra _had_ kept her safe. An idea sparked in the back of her mind.

“Fine. But only,” she added, “if you tell me about the bruise on your side.”

His expression soured. “Nunya fuckin' business.”

She crossed her arms. “C’mon, Angel. I know something happened, just tell me.”

Anger flashed across his face. “I’m fine! Why do you care, anyway?” he snapped, hands on his hips. 

“Because you’re my friend!”

He looked genuinely caught off guard, but he quickly hid his surprise, looking down at her with haughty disdain.

“‘You’re my friend,’ what are ya, five?” he sneered. “I don’t have _friends,_ toots. And even if I did, you’re just a pathetic, boring prude! No way you could ever party with me, bitch.”

Lee felt her heart clench as tears pricked her eyes.

_It’s just like before. Nobody wants me around._

She thought she saw a flash of regret in his eyes, but it passed quickly. “I’m done talkin’. Let’s go home.”

He started to walk away, and she had no choice but to follow.

Unbeknownst to either of them, somebody snapped a picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! There's a storm on the horizon, folks, and I'm so excited for you all to see what I have planned over the next month.
> 
> Important info/calls for discussion:
> 
> Overall, this is a very personal work for me. I've infused parts of myself and my experiences in my interpretations of all the characters, and firmly believe writing is by its nature an intimate and vulnerable act. This especially goes for writing Lee and her PTSD. I myself have complex post-traumatic stress disorder stemming from long periods of abuse during my childhood, and will be writing her interactions with and relationship to her trauma based on my own experiences. If you also have PTSD, this means her experiences may differ from yours, but please take heed that this portrayal is meant to at its core be respectful and authentic.
> 
> And that brings us to another topic: asexuality and its role in what's primarily a romance story. Al is canonically aroace, which as an ace I LOVE! IMHO aces don't have near enough rep, and that goes double for aros and triple for aroaces. At the same time though, shipping is fun, and I'm under no illusions as to why most of you are here. I guess what I'm trying to say is going forward I'm going to be interpreting Al's ace-ness using some of my own experiences as an ace person. There's no "right" or "wrong" way to be ace, and we're all unique, but I really want to respect that part of his identity. So in this he's going to be more along the lines of a gray-biromantic sex-neutral-to-sex-favorable asexual. Hopefully this doesn't step on too many toes... ^__^' 
> 
> On that note, I've been adjusting my outline and was wondering how... erm... ~spicy~ y'all want things to get. There's already some plot-necessary spice in the chapters set to drop just before New Years (only like a 2-3 on the spice scale though, so don't get your hopes up), and I'm both anxious and nervous to see how it'll be received. In case it wasn't already painfully obvious, I've never written romance before, and have definitely never written anything that ventures towards the explicit. I'm always willing to try though, and may or may not have a few scenes already outlined... but the plot will be basically the same with or without them.
> 
> Therefore, in my ongoing quest to give the people what they want, I'm opening it up to the floor! Please feel free to sound off in the comments with your opinions! However, I know that such requests or discussions can make people shy, especially on a public forum, so I'm probably going to make a Google Poll sometime within the next couple weeks to solicit requests, feedback, and preferences 100% anonymously. I'm a scientist IRL (hence the fake name, the posting using a VPN, etc.), so I absolutely live for metrics and data, and have been doing extensive research on how to write that sort of thing properly in my free time. So, if the people want the ace girl to write smut, the people shall have it, and God damn it, I'm gonna do my best to make it good!
> 
> Your comments spark joy, and I hope all of you are staying healthy and safe as we approach the final stretch of this godforsaken year. <3


	17. The Book Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sleepless night leads to another strange encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breaking my own rules and updating a bit early, mainly because I'm impatient, but also because I've got a real tough couple of days ahead and could use the serotonin.
> 
> I'm so thankful for all the wonderful feedback I've received on last week's chapter, especially from our first-time commenters! I know commenting can be a bit of an intimidating process for some, putting yourself and your words out there, but I don't bite (much ;) ). And even if you're too shy to comment and are just reading along, I still love you and your beautiful brain for coming on this journey with me! I never expected this story to get the type of reception it has. Case en pointe, if current projections hold this story will surpass 100 subs by the end of the year which is... fucking _insane?!?_ I don't know where y'all keep coming from but I'm eternally grateful to each and every one of you.
> 
> Ok, enough with the mushy stuff, on with the show!

It had been hours since she and Angel had gotten back to the hotel, and Lee still couldn’t settle.

Her body was like a live wire. Every tiny creak and groan of the old hotel made her jump, and whenever she closed her eyes, she would see snarling face of the demon who not only tried to mug her but nearly blew her cover. Worst of all, another face haunted her, a human face, one she had tried so desperately to forget.

Angel had disappeared into his room as soon as they’d returned, snatching his new jacket from her hands without so much as a second glance or word of gratitude. She’d been tempted to squeal to Charlie and Vaggie about the disastrous outing but had decided to hold back. She tried convincing herself her motivations were solely selfish. After all, they’d never let her out again if they knew how close she’d come to being discovered. But she knew deep down that in spite of everything, she didn’t want Angel to end up in trouble.

His cruel words echoed in her ears, and her stomach twisted with worry. Earlier it had seemed like he was genuinely enjoying their little trip. Had it all been a lie to take advantage of her, to use her as his personal ATM? Or had she come on too strong when she asked about the bruises she’d seen?

She tossed and turned as the whispers of self-doubt that lurked in the back of her mind chattered incessantly. In New York she’d told herself she just never met the right people to become friends with, that everyone had lives that were too full for her to mesh into, and all her failed attempts and finding new friends were simply a result of extenuating circumstances. But now she was starting to think that those internal detractors were right, that she was the problem, not everyone else. The numbers on her digital clock blurred as tears welled in her eyes. It was clear she wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

Which is why she decided now would be as good a time as ever to reluctantly take Alastor up on his offer of help. It was half past one, and she knew his office was probably empty. In theory it was a simple operation: sneak in, take a few books, and bring them back to her room with no one being the wiser. If he mentioned them missing the next day, she’d tell him she was borrowing them.

She wiped her eyes as she made her way down to his office. Steeling herself, she proceeded at a snail’s pace, creaking open the door and finding to her relief that the room was empty. It was also surprisingly cozy, all dark woods and burgundy wallpaper, with a pair of red armchairs and end tables next to the cold fireplace and an impressive pair of antlers mounted on the wall. An antique desk greeted her as she took her first few tentative steps inside, elaborately carved with motifs of deer and skulls and roses. A few scattered folders and papers littered its surface. She was tempted to take a look but thought better of it. This was a stealth mission, after all, and it was imperative she get in and out as fast as possible.

She’d expected him to only have a small collection for her to sort through, so imagine her surprise when she took in the floor-to-ceiling bookcases lining the entire back wall. Most of the shelves were filled with books and scrolls, though a few knickknacks were also on display: an ornate silver dagger, an antique globe, a metal statuette of a deer. She padded over, the wood floor cool against her bare feet, and ran her fingers along their spines, looking for any that could be of use. Some didn’t seem all that relevant, a few looked to be written in French, and others didn’t have titles at all.

A small framed photo caught her eye: the black and white portrait of a woman, slightly fuzzy and unfocused. Her hair was swept back into a bun, save a few stray coils and curls framing her face, and her light-colored blouse contrasted with her dark skin. Her full lips were stretched into a kind smile as her dark eyes crinkled at the corners, vibrant and joyful.

“Good evening,” a familiar voice said.

“ _Jesus Christ!_ ”

She whipped around to see Alastor sitting in an armchair that had been empty moments before. He gave her a lopsided grin as the door to the hall swung shut and the fireplace ignited.

“Hmm, not quite.”

“You,” she pointed an accusatory finger at him, her other hand over her rapidly beating heart, “have got to stop doing that. I should put a bell on you, I swear.”

He laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

“What’re you doing up, anyway? Besides scaring me half to death, of course.”

“I could ask the same of you, dear! Sneaking into my quarters like a thief in the night.” He cocked his head and smirked at her. “Scandalous.”

“I just wanted to borrow a book or two. I’m doing some research.”

“Really? And here I thought you learned best at, what is it you said? ‘Normal human hours’?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She looked away.

“Neither could I,” he said. “Though for yours truly that’s more of the norm than an uncommon occurrence. Perhaps that’s just a punishment for my delinquent ways, though! Even in death, I’m resisting a _rest!_ ” He laughed, joining the invisible studio audience that accompanied his quips.

“Hah-hah,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “You’re so punny.” Suddenly self-conscious under his crimson gaze, she tugged on the hem of her pajama shirt, averting her eyes once more. “Sorry for coming in without asking. I’ll get out of your hair. Good—"

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She looked up in surprise. It might’ve just been her imagination, but she could’ve sworn there was a note of genuine concern in his voice.

 _Nope, nope, not falling for it,_ she thought.

“I’m fine.”

His brow quirked up in amusement. “You should know better than to lie to me. Tsk, tsk, tsk…”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid anyw—” The staticky sound of a buzzer cut her off.

“Wrong! That’s strike two, dear.”

_Wow. Rude._

“Why do you care, anyway?” she asked, arms crossed.

“You’ve piqued my curiosity! And unlike _somebody_ , I can’t get the answers to my questions via breaking and entering,” he said with a wink.

She shook her head. This was a trick, it had to be.

 _Do it_ , a small voice in the back of her head whispered.

 _No! He’ll just make fun of you,_ another voice snapped back, albeit half-heartedly.

His expression softened. “Come now, darling. It’s just eating you up inside, isn’t it?”

She hesitated. She knew she shouldn’t, but she was overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted, and here was someone willing to listen.

“ _If_ I tell you, and that’s a big if,” she said, “this stays between us, ok?”

“But of course.”

“I’m serious, Al.”

“So am I.” He smiled. “You have my word, dear.”

The last of her resolve crumbled and a sigh escaped her. “A guy tried to mug me while I was out with Angel today. Umbra scared him off though, so I guess I should be thanking you.” There was a flash again of that cramped closet, the taste of bile and whiskey on her tongue, and she stiffened.

His grin faltered slightly, but he said nothing, gesturing for her to sit across from him.

“I just,” she said, sinking down into the chair, “I was so _happy_ to be out. And I felt normal, just another face in the crowd. It was almost like being back home again. And then this dickhead had to go and ruin everything.”

“Go on.” His smile was thin, as neutral as she’d ever seen him.

“And on top of that, Angel and I got in a fight. I was just trying to look out for him, and he was so nasty to me!” Her eyes began to cloud with tears as her feeling of frustration grew. “Even though I was just trying to show him that I cared.”

She ran her fingers across the patterned fabric of the armchair, a small flame of anger igniting in her belly. “I hate not being able to go anywhere, I hate having to hide away, I hate that everyone is such an asshole, I hate being in _Hell_. And I hate feeling so weak.”

“All I want to do is go home. And even though everyone down here has literal magic powers, nobody can help me! Or will help me, for that matter.” She gave him an accusatory look. “And when I get here, scared out of my goddamn mind, what happens? A fucking demon decides he has nothing better to do than harass me and try to extort me!”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “And _here_ it comes again! Oh Lee,” she broke into a mocking impression of his on-air tone, “if only you weren’t such a stupid little mortal and had taken my deal, none of this would have happened, _darling_. It’d be such a shame if you got ripped apart out there, I’d lose so much _money!_ ” she spat.

_Wait._

Her rage and suspicion clicked together like puzzle pieces.

_No. No fucking way._

“It was you,” she breathed. “You hired that guy to attack me so I’d feel threatened enough to take your deal!” White hot anger rolled through her. “ _You mother—"_

Her mouth sealed shut and her words were muffled as she tried and failed to work against the invisible force silencing her.

“ _That’s enough,_ ” he snapped, his smile now more of a snarl as thick static surrounded him. Reality glitched as strange symbols and figures swirled around his head, his gloved hands digging into the arms of his chair. His shadow stretched, crawling up the wall behind him, its blue eyes blazing as its sadistic grin curled. Her righteous anger turned into fear as he held her gaze, her hair standing on end. She was frozen, unable to move even as her brain was screaming for her to run.

Then, like a passing storm cloud, that dark look faded from his eyes as his posture relaxed, shadow shrinking.

“I won’t pretend I am above such tactics, but I assure you, what happened to you today was not my doing.” He leaned back, steepling his fingers under his chin. “I must also remind you that I have endeavored to treat you kindly as of late. That can easily change.” The threat in his voice was clear.

“I do not forgive, and I will not tolerate disrespect. However, I will overlook your transgression tonight, given your rather emotional state.” His eyes narrowed. “Next time I will not be so merciful. Do you understand?”

She gave him a stiff nod. He waved his hand and the pressure on her jaw faded. She took a shuddering breath as the few tears that had pooled in her eyes fell down her cheeks. 

He sighed. “I’ve frightened you now, haven’t I?” he said, getting to his feet. She shrank back into her chair as he approached, kneeling in front of her. They were eye to eye now. She flinched as his gloved hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” His voice held a soothing timbre as his thumb moved back and forth across her collarbone in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you. Please, forgive me?”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. The Alastor she knew never acknowledged his wrongdoings, let alone asked for forgiveness. But then again, his behavior lately had turned much of what she thought she knew about him on its head. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. She hesitated, then took it gingerly and began to dry her eyes, sniffling as he hummed in approval.

“Now, let’s get you a nice book to read, shall we?” He walked over to one of his bookshelves, scanning the titles before selecting one.

“Start with this one, darling.” He handed her a book embossed with gold letters that read “Meditations on Damnation and the Fall of Mankind.” It was well worn, with a broken spine and yellowed pages.

He snapped his fingers and she jumped as the handkerchief in her hand disappeared, replaced with a steaming red mug full of what looked like tea. She eyed the mug with suspicion and glanced up at him.

“To help you sleep,” he said as he sat back down in the chair across from her. “The damn things don’t work on me anymore, but it should still calm your nerves.” His own book (“The Complete Works of H. P. Lovecraft,” she registered vaguely) appeared in his hands as he settled in to read.

Her gaze flitted from the mug to him and back again, and she took a small, tentative sip. It _tasted_ like tea, at least, with notes of mint and chamomile, and the warmth of the mug was strangely comforting. She still wasn’t sure if his remorse was sincere, but she decided she’d give him the benefit of the doubt, just this once.

They sat for a while as she slowly drained her cup, the silence between them broken only by the sound of turning pages and the occasionally crackle from the fireplace. Soon her discomfort faded away into a calming bliss. She had only just made it through the first chapter of her book when she had to stifle a yawn.

“Tired?” he asked, voice light and teasing.

“A bit. I better get to bed.” She stretched, book in hand. “G’night, Al.”

“Sleep well, dearest.”

She felt her cheeks color at this new term of endearment but did her best to brush it aside. He certainly was strange, but she was slowly getting used to his quirks. And in quiet moments like this, it seemed like even he had the potential to change for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a programming notice for you all: In honor of the first night of Hanukkah, I'll be uploading a bonus chapter this Friday, so keep an eye out for that!
> 
> This chapter was originally planned to go a totally different direction and be just a brief scene to wrap up last week's installment, but during my initial drafting process it kinda took on a life of it's own. I swear, the little people in my head have minds of their own when it comes to this stuff, since this isn't the first time this has happened and I'm sure it won't be the last. 
> 
> And oh, the drama! The tension! The duality of man (or demon, in this case)! Dramatic bullshit aside, I'm happy with how this one turned out. Let me know what y'all think if you're so inclined, and be sure to join me on Friday for another peek inside our favorite red bastard's head...
> 
> Have a wonderful day! <3


	18. Changing the Channel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An hourglass turns over. A fisherman sets his hook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chanukah sameach! Here's a lil something short and sweet for y'all, enjoy!

Velvet was halfway through her milkshake, zoning out as her two best friends argued over something or other, when her phone pinged.

“Found this. Not sure if it helps,” read the message from a trusted source. Attached was a link to a series of pictures on some freelance paparazzi wannabe’s Voxtagram. They weren’t great: no filters, only a dozen likes, terrible use of tags, and the lighting sucked, but they were clear enough to show Val’s boy toy walking down 66th street, random groupie in tow.

“Hey, boys? Got another lead,” she said, sending the photos on to them.

“Let’s hope it’s fucking useful for once,” Vox frowned.

“Oh, quit whining, ya big baby,” Val sneered. They were currently “broken up,” which Velvet knew never lasted long, but it still wasn’t pleasant to deal with.

The fact that their search for evidence of a new human crashing at that idiotic hotel hadn’t been going very well didn’t help. Vox had assured them it’d only be a matter of time until one of the residents slipped up and posted a photo with her in the background, but so far there’d been no hits on social media. Val was insistent they just march in there and look for themselves, or send a team of spies, but Vox had balked. As powerful as they were, they didn’t want to piss off the princess, or rather, risk invoking the wrath of Lucifer himself.

“You know who that is, Val?” Vox asked, zooming in on the grey face of the mystery demon.

“Can’t say I do, Voxy. And I keep close tabs on all my star’s associates.”

“Hmm… probably just a fan.”

Velvet drummed her fingers on the table, impatient. She was just itching to get her hands on the human, should she exist, that is. Videos, Q&As, livestreamed torture sessions, there was just so much content she could squeeze out of her before the boys took her new toy away. She’d even been experimenting with glamour potions, practicing disguising her demonic form so they could have an “all-human” photoshoot with her and the girls. Of course, the simpler route would have been to apply a glamour the regular way, but despite all her skill with alchemy, she’d never quite gotten a handle on sanguimancy.

The gears in her head clicked into place and she snapped her fingers. “Ohmygosh, guys! Maybe the human we’re looking for doesn’t look _human_ at all!”

“Explain,” Vox said.

“So, I’m only 10k followers away from 200 mil on Voxtagram, and I totes wanna do some cool shoots with the new human when we get her—”

“ _If_ we get her. We don’t even know if she’s real,” Val grumbled, lighting a new cigarette.

“Anyway, I’ve been cooking up some new potions to mimic the effects of a glamour without blood magic,” she continued. “And that got me thinking: you know who _does_ use blood magic?”

“That has-been Radio Demon!” Vox finished her thought. “Vel, you’re almost as smart as me! Val, have your boys keep a closer eye on the spider than usual. If he leaves the hotel with her again, I want boots on the ground to snatch them up.”

“And why should I do that?” he asked, blowing a puff of acrid smoke in his face. “I could just send my own men in there to grab the bitch.”

“Because if you don’t, I’m cutting the servers for all of Porn Studios, that’s why,” he snapped. “You may own the industry, but don’t forget who built and paid for all your equipment. Velvet, how long would it take for you to brew a draught of dissipation?”

The doll scratched her head. “Hmmm, a couple weeks, why?”

A grim smile stretched across the demon’s screen as he adjusted his bowtie.

“I have a plan.”

* * *

Alastor paced the floor of his office, deep in thought.

He’d almost blown it.

Day after day of kind gestures, of suppressing his darker urges, all his hard work had nearly gone up in smoke. He’d even had to ask for _forgiveness_. Him, the Radio Demon! It was absolutely disgraceful. Mick had given him a rather stern talking-to, chastising him for “ _scaring the poor girl_ ,” and his shadow self was equally irate, hissing that he should have torn her to pieces for her rudeness. Between the two of them he’d worked up quite a headache. But he supposed it was his price to pay for losing control.

He wasn’t going to pretend it hadn’t been satisfying. It’d been delicious to see her face twist in fear, that loveliest, most primordial emotion, to see how she cowered when he hadn’t even moved a muscle. But his more rational mind had told him that in order for his new plan to succeed, he’d have to continue to be gentle with her. So, he had quieted the part of him that wanted to see how far he could push her and slipped back into his comforting façade once more.

His efforts seemed to be paying off, though. She had accepted his reassurances with far less hesitation than he had expected, had let herself be soothed by his words. She had even drunk his sleeping draught without a second thought. A thrill ran through him.

She was so _trusting_. A terrible error on her part, really. Oh, she styled herself to be quite the bearcat, but there was still a streak of innocence to her, an innocence he wanted to crush, tear, corrupt wholly. It would be so easy, and he was not a man who often turned away from his whims. But he knew if he waited it would be even more satisfying when she gave in, when she was finally seduced by his silver-tongued words and shook his hand. And she _would_ give in, they always did.

 _Such a naïve little thing_ , he thought. He wondered what she tasted like.

If things went well, he’d soon find out.

While it was true he’d had nothing to do with the attempted mugging, he was sure he could use it to his advantage. She was feeling vulnerable and lonely, her sleepless state was proof as much, and his words still had an effect on her. And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to see the blood rush to her face, to see those doe eyes of hers widen slightly as she got flustered. It had awakened a flame of greed in him, a curiosity as to just what other delightful reactions he could wring from this amusing belle.

He supposed now would be as good a time as any to step things up, to see just how much he could bend his newest plaything before she broke.

Flirtation was not one of his favorite techniques to use, but it was one he had honed during his days in the land of the living. He had been good looking when he was alive; the way women (and some men) had flung themselves at him was evidence enough. And as a radio man he’d always had a way with words, snaring much of his easier prey with nothing more than some honeyed whispers and a few well-placed touches over a drink at a speakeasy.

When Bondye, the Ancestors, and all the blessed Saints had cast his blackened soul into Tartarus, he had been pleased to find that violence and outright intimidation were far more socially acceptable methods of solving problems here than they had been in his beloved New Orleans. And oh, how he’d taken to it like a fish to water, becoming much like the great, monstrous things that lurked in the depths of his favorite tales of terror, chewing bones to dust and breaking brittle minds, subjecting the denizens of Hell to his darkest and most elaborate designs as he honed his craft.

But when he was bored, or too busy to get his hands dirty, he certainly wasn’t above using a few winks and a suggestive turn of phrase to get his way. Heaven help anyone who thought he would actually follow through, though: he’d happily eviscerated quite a few would-be suitors who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Alas, he couldn’t do that to her, even though it would be as easy as tearing through tissue paper. He was powerful, but he knew better than to go against the will of Lucifer’s own daughter. His life on the surface had been cut terribly short, to his eternal frustration, and once he found himself in Hell, he had decided he wanted his afterlife to be long, comfortable and entertaining; he wasn’t going to risk it for the sake of some pitiful girl.

He rolled the tension from his shoulders. He could use a good hunt, something to satiate his desires for now, and Umbra had gotten a look at the sinner who had given his little human such a fright. A wicked grin spread across his face.

Perhaps he’d pay him a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I have a headcanon that in addition to the rest of the V-Squad, Velvet is the leader of a group of doll demon girlfriends, all of whom are nicknamed after different types of fabric or textiles (Cashmere, Silk, Taffeta, Lace, Angora, etc). This is now an open invitation to any other writers out there to take this idea and run with it.
> 
> And we get another peek inside Al's head! I'd like to thank Spotify for helping me get into his headspace, as I have lots of songs I use for writing him. I'm going to talk about a couple here, because it gives me an excuse to talk about two of my favorite things (writing and music) and also because much like a dictator I've gone mad with power and no one can stop me. However, I know it's probably boring for most of you, so don't read it if you don't wanna. I'll be back on Tuesday either way with another chapter, this time it's another of my personal favorites.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! See you next week! <3
> 
> **Ten Selections from Regina's Writing Playlist: Alastor**
> 
> So I know it's not uncommon to make playlists/song associations with certain characters, however my associations come more from lyricism/overall song vibe than genre or era, so don't expect much jazz and swing on here.
> 
> 1\. "The Camper Velorium III: Al the Killer" by Coheed and Cambria (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1XneEiVdDWY)
> 
> Yes, that's the real name of the song. Fitting, no? And the vibes are immaculate, in fact the whole album this is from is 11/10. But then again, this is my favorite band, so I'm a bit biased. Was supposed to see them a 5th time this year, didn't because of, well... *gestures broadly at everything*
> 
> 2\. "DEVIL" by Shinedown (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRtE5NvsP4g)
> 
> This song is what helped me write Al and Lee's first 1-on-1 encounter back in Chapter 7. The entire second verse just screams Al, and it's sufficiently forceful to capture that torrent of initial malevolent energy. Bonus fact, I've seen these guys live twice and they rock.
> 
> 3\. "Ship on Fire" by Zeal and Ardor (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-IcGfF0aAaI)
> 
> "I come in the breath of the dead  
> Bathing in my papa's blood  
> Bare-boned and covered in red  
> Waiting on that evening flood"
> 
> Like are you kidding me?!? Too perfect. Also, I love, love, love this project more than words can describe. The main concept behind their music is what if instead of embracing Christianity, Africans who had been kidnapped and enslaved and their descendants had rejected it and embraced Satanism as a form of rebellion against those who enslaved them. The result is a blend of spirituals and black metal influences which I adore. They're currently at the top of my "to-see-live" list.
> 
> 4\. "I Never Told You What I Do For A Living" by MCR (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXXi_wCri4w)
> 
> This one should be pretty self-explanatory. Besides, would it be a HH fic playlist without MCR? Of course not! I was supposed to see these guys live this year, but then the world ended. Hopefully next year!
> 
> 5\. "House of the Rising Sun" by The Animals (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Fy7opKu46c)
> 
> Also self-explanatory lol.
> 
> 6\. "Voodoo Child (Slight Return)" by The Jimi Hendrix Experience (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZBlqcbpmxY)
> 
> "If I don't meet you no more in this world then uh  
> I'll meet ya on the next one  
> And don't be late  
> Don't be late"
> 
> Very appropriate! Also the riffs are face-meltingly awesome.
> 
> 7\. "Mr. Pinstripe Suit" by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBxfAs_skMA)
> 
> Ok, there's a bit of jazzy swing on here! This song is just so fun, and most of the lyrics fit Al well.
> 
> 8\. "Dear Dictator" by Saint Motel (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OcGnrY5JEnw)
> 
> "Nobody has ever seen his face  
> But fear his smile  
> I heard he'll drink your blood just for the taste  
> Then laugh, and spit it out"
> 
> Literally all the lyrics scream Al, but this first verse especially meshes well with the plot of this fic thus far.
> 
> 9\. "Mein Teil" by Rammstein (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFpjMNKxsnA)
> 
> It's a song about murder and cannibalism. 'Nuff said. I was also supposed to see these guys live this year, but again, the world ended. My tickets are still good for next year though!
> 
> 10\. "We've Got A Score To Settle" by The Dear Hunter (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XYScOqq3oBQ)
> 
> "With a stone cold glare and a crooked grin  
> You know exactly what we're saying when we say  
> Someone's got blood on their hands  
> Someone's got blood on their hands"
> 
> Very apt, in my humble opinion. These guys are also near the top of my "to-see-live" list, highly recommend. 
> 
> Ok, I've talked your ears off long enough. Hope this was interesting to the 5 of you that looked at it lol ;) lmk if you have any song recs of your own in the comments!


	19. Hymn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A seed is planted amidst cutting boards and confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really like how this one turned out, hope y'all feel the same.
> 
> Also, in case you missed last week's HH Pilot panel on Viv's channel, there's a moment in the stream where Ed and Viv talk about Al being canonically asexual and how people have responded really positively to that in terms of ace representation in media and I kinda cried a little??? Because it's true??? Like to have not just a canonically ace character, but a _main cast-member_ with complex, even downright nefarious goals and motivations means the world to me as an ace person. I'm obviously 100% pro-shipping (this is an Reader/OCxAl supernatural romance with horror elements, duh) and also appreciate other pairings like Radiodust and Radiohusk and Charlastor as well as NSFW content with these and other pairings, but to just have that bit of canon representation means the world to me.
> 
> Personal tangent: I was under the mistaken impression I was straight until I was like 14 years old, and it wasn't until a fateful sleepover after a friend's birthday party in which celebrity crushes were discussed that I realized "oh shit, people _actually want to have sex with other people_ " and my whole world turned upside-down. Prior to this I'd assumed everyone was like me, and that movies and TV shows threw in sex and cheating and all that stuff to add drama and as a marketing ploy because "sex sells," not because 99% of the population experiences that form of attraction. A decade later the sense of confusion, dread and terror that I wasn't "normal" still haunts me. Even after I discovered asexuality a few months later thanks to AVEN and Tumblr, I still went through some really tough times dealing with it. I remember crying in bed at night, praying to God to make me straight or gay or bi or _something_ other people could understand. I even looked into conversion therapy, hoping this was something that could be "fixed." To this day it's an identity I sometimes struggle with, it's impacted my romantic relationships and dating life, and my family is still partially in denial about it. 
> 
> So yeah, just hearing that meant a lot to me and made me both teary and happy. On with the story!

“As I went down in the river to pray,

Studying about that good old way,

And who shall wear the starry crown,

Good Lord, show me the way.”

Lee’s back ached as she worked, scrubbing the tiled floor of the kitchen on her hands and knees as she sang to herself. Niffty had trusted her enough to deep clean on her own for once, and though the task was grueling, she wanted to show the little cyclops she didn’t need to be micromanaged. Unfortunately, that meant making sure everything was as spotless and shiny as possible to meet her exacting standards.

Though she didn’t consider herself to be religious, she’d always loved this song. She’d had to learn it in choir during her sophomore year of high school, and she absolutely adored the harmonies that weaved together when it was sung by a group. The irony of singing a hymn while in Hell was not lost on her, and it brought a grim smile to her face.

She’d been doing her best to make the best of things, but every day was harder and harder to get through. Her fight with Angel still weighed heavy on her mind, and though she was surrounded by people (well, demons, but who’s counting), she couldn’t shake that familiar feeling of loneliness. Charlie had promised her she’d listen to her problems, but Lee was painfully aware of how her presence had thrown a wrench into her grand plans to redeem sinners and didn’t want to burden her any further. Since she’d arrived, they hadn’t tried to recruit any new guests, probably out of fear that word of her presence would spread, and though she knew it was only to keep her safe she couldn’t help but feel guilty. She supposed she could take her concerns to Vaggie, but she knew the little moth demon would be less than sympathetic given how she was interfering with her girlfriend’s dream.

That left her with scant few options for people to talk to: Niffty was sweet, but could be overbearing, and tended to steer conversations back to topics like cleaning and romance whenever possible. Husk would probably tolerate listening to her complain, given that he was a bartender and had probably heard worse, but she doubted he’d be willing or able to provide any comfort. Angel was still only acknowledging her to make the occasional snide comment, and Al was, well, _Al._

Dipping her brush back in the grey, soapy water, she moved to clean a stubborn stain stuck in the grout. She almost felt like Cinderella, except instead of a wicked stepmother, she had a hotel full of spirits of varying levels of malevolence to reckon with.

“Oh, sisters, let’s go down,

Let’s go down, come on down,

Oh, sisters, let’s go down,

Down in the river to pray.”

_I wonder if they have Disney movies in Hell?_ she thought. Most of what she’d found on VoxFlix was made in Hell, and the selection of movies smuggled in from the surface appeared to be mostly horror movies or adult films, with a few comedies and romance movies thrown in. She figured she’d have to ask Charlie, or Angel once he decided to pull his head out of his ass.

She continued to sing as she worked, voice bouncing off the walls of the large kitchen and making her sound much better than she actually was. Sure, she could carry a tune, but she was no extraordinary talent. No record deals in her future, no sir. Charlie on the other hand had a beautiful singing voice, and Lee was convinced that if they were on the surface she would have skyrocketed to the top of the charts.

The clacking of shoes on the tile floor stopped her mid-verse.

“I’m surprised you know that song, dear!”

Lee groaned, looking up to see her least favorite demon leering down at her.

“They used it for outdoor baptisms in my day,” he continued, ignoring her obvious annoyance at his presence, “A lovely piece, truly. Much more fun than the hymns we sang during Mass.”

She raised an eyebrow. “ _You_ went to _church?_ ”

“Mostly in my youth, but yes. Mass in the morning, prayers at our altar in the evenings, just like any good Catholic _vodouisant_.”

“‘Good Catholic’ my ass!" she scoffed. "Ever heard of ‘thou shalt not kill’?”

His expression darkened. “I was never fond of that commandment.”

A shiver of fear ran down her spine.

“Now darling, as lovely as it is seeing you on your knees, I could actually use your help,” he continued, eyes narrowing a smidge.

_Did he just…?_

“Phrasing, Al.”

He tilted his head to the side, as if he was confused.

_Yep. Totally oblivious._

She sighed. “What do you want?”

“I’m making gumbo with red beans and rice tonight and find myself in need of a sous chef. And as _you_ are already here, you will be privileged enough to cook with me!”

“I have work to do, Al,” she said, gesturing at the bucket.

“Not anymore you don’t!” He snapped his fingers and the bucket disappeared, the entire kitchen now sparkling clean. “Up and at ‘em!”

He pulled her to her feet. She wobbled, legs slightly numb from kneeling, and tried to keep her balance by grabbing on to something. Unfortunately, that something was Alastor. She felt him stiffen, and a piercing burst of radio interference filled the room.

“Oh shit!” She pulled back immediately. “I’m sorry!”

He stood there, frozen, with what almost looked like panic in his eyes.

“It was an accident, I swear.”

No response. She was starting to get nervous.

“Alastor?”

Nothing.

“Uh… I’ll help you cook to make up for it?”

_That_ seemed to shake him out of whatever daze he’d been in.

“No harm done!” he said airily, “Now, let’s get to it!”

* * *

The aroma of cooked meat and the bouncing tempo of swing music filled the kitchen as they worked.

“I didn’t know gumbo had bacon in it,” Lee commented, looking up from slicing her bell peppers.

“Oh, it doesn’t! We just need the drippings for the roux. The bacon is for yours truly!” he grinned, taking a piece off of the hot pan and popping it into his mouth. She cringed at the sight, but it didn’t appear to burn him at all.

“Couldn’t you ‘magic up’ some bacon grease?”

“I could, but that would defeat the entire purpose, my dear! Cooking is all about the process, and I refuse to rush good food. Cut that celery, will you?”

Lee’s attention returned to her cutting board. As far as she knew, he had the ability to conjure pretty much anything. To insist on doing things by hand was strangely endearing. She set about chopping the vegetables as best she could, but it was slow going. She wasn’t exactly a whiz in the kitchen and given the fact that one cut could lead to her being ripped apart by the clearly dangerous man next to her, she was being extra cautious. It was weird to think of cooking as a hazardous activity, but this was her new reality.

None of this appeared to occur to Alastor, who was quick to criticize her technique.

“Your knife skills are posilutely atrocious! I’ve seen blind men mince with more precision!”

“I’m trying my best, alright? If you’re not satisfied, then you do it.” She knew she should feel insulted, but that Trans-Atlantic accent of his seemed to lessen the sting a bit.

“And rob you of such a valuable learning opportunity? I’d sooner face Lucifer himself!”

She rolled her eyes and smiled in spite of herself. He was such a drama queen.

“Why do you talk like that, anyway?” she asked, turning the pile of sliced vegetables and going in for another round of chopping.

He cocked his head at her. “Like what?”

“You talk like you’re always performing, like we’re in the Truman Show or something.”

He looked puzzled. “I’m not familiar with that particular radio program.”

“It’s—never mind, ok? All I’m saying is, there’s only the two of us in here! You don’t have to act like you’re ‘on-air’, y’know?”

“An audience of one is still an audience, dear.” He paused, as if considering something.

“But perhaps I’ll indulge you.”

The static was now almost entirely gone from his voice, and that chipper Trans-Atlantic accent had fallen away. In its place was something low and smooth with a bit of a Southern drawl that made her stomach do flips. She had hoped his real voice would be high and shrill, or perhaps scratchy and unpleasant, but no, because this was Hell, and the universe was against her, it had to sound good.

_Really_ good.

“You alright there, cher?”

She blinked and realized she had been staring. “I’m fine,” she said, cheeks warming slightly.

“Ah ah ah, what did I say about lying to me?” He stepped closer, sporting an amused grin.

“I said I’m fine Al,” she snapped, turning her eyes back to her cutting board. She couldn’t bear to look at him right now. “Asshole…”

Another step. Her hair stood on end as he loomed over her. She stiffened as a gloved finger came to rest on her wrist, agonizingly slow as it traced a path up her arm.

“Careful now, little darling,” he murmured. “That dirty mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days.” Her breath hitched as something curious and terrifying twisted in her belly.

“Alastor I swear to God I will fucking stab you,” she said in a rush, grip on her paring knife tightening as she tried to maintain her composure.

He actually had the audacity to laugh at her. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

She had half a mind to make good on her threat when he retreated, returning to the stove as if nothing untoward had transpired. Frustrated, she resumed chopping with renewed fervor, reducing the poor celery sticks before her to green confetti.

“How’d you learn to talk the other way?” she asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Why, by listening to others of course!” His radio voice was back, and she relaxed. “Daytime broadcasts had a certain convention back in my day, and in radio, one’s voice must be used as a finely-tuned instrument! Allow me to demonstrate.”

He cleared his throat, demanding her attention.

“One can sound feminine, for radio plays where a lady’s part is called for.” He spoke in a high falsetto, sounding surprisingly like a woman.

“Or one can be posh, for reading news from across the pond.” Now his accent sounded snobby and British.

“Y’can ev’n have th’ folks down th’ bayou feelin’ a bit mo’ a’ home.” He broke into the thickest, most backwater Cajun drawl she’d ever heard, and she had to stifle a giggle.

“Al, that’s amazing!” she beamed, his earlier intrusion now forgotten. “Can you do any others?”

“Why yes! Yours truly is one of the best in the business, my dear!” he winked. “Try this one on for size: Oh, I can’t wait til my gentleman caller comes ta visit me! Togetha we can shove dope in our noses an’ fornicate!”

She laughed out loud. It was a pretty good impression of Angel, but his word choice was all wrong.

“Needs more swearing. But still, impressive.”

“I am a man of many talents,” he said, that king-sized ego of his shining through once more. “Nawlins, and all of Hell for that matter, has never known a finer host.”

“Gnaw-lings?”

“I believe the Yankees call it New Orleans.” He overemphasized each syllable with a crooked smile.

The scrape of kitchen implements and the jazzy tune he was playing accompanied them as they worked, and she quickly found herself lost in thought. He was so weird, and even though she’d gotten to know everyone else at least a little, he remained an infuriating puzzle. She could count the things she knew about him for sure on one hand: He was an arrogant bastard, he had killed a _lot_ of people, he played the piano quite well, and now she knew he had been a radio host in New Orleans a long time ago.

She wanted to know more, to know him better. Oh, he was annoying, and at times he scared the living daylights out of her, but she was intrigued by him in spite of it all.

“Why’d you get into radio, anyway?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

The music he had been playing screeched to a halt, and his perpetual grin was strained as he returned his attention to the roux. He was unusually quiet as he continued to stir, and she was worried she had somehow offended him. But he didn’t look angry. If anything, he seemed almost sad, despite his smile.

“Every man wishes to leave his mark, a stamp that will linger long after they have shuffled off their mortal coil. However, if someone such as myself wanted to make his way in the world, his options were limited.” His voice was soft, contemplative. “Even in Nawlins, it was hard to get decent work if you weren’t white. I had no money, no family, no connections. The odds were against me. But I was always clever, and in spite of everything I made a name for myself.” 

He looked her in the eye. “You see, there’s an element of mystery to radio, sweetheart. On the radio nobody can see what color you are, or how old you are, or what clothes you wear. You get to live in the listener’s head and be whatever they want you to be. In-between the airwaves I became a gentleman a listener would tip their hat to, not a Creole ‘boy’ to be relegated to the back of streetcars.”

“And believe it or not, I had it better than most. I took more after my _father_ in terms of looks," he spit the title out with obvious disdain, metal nails drumming against the countertop, "and I could sometimes charm my way into places that would’ve chased my dear mother out at gunpoint.” His lips curled in amusement as he turned his gaze back to the stove. “She always said I had the gift of gab.”

“Thanks to her I was well-mannered and well-educated. We didn’t have much, but she did her best to make sure I had food in my belly and shoes that fit. Presentation and reputation were everything, and she always saw to it that I treated my elders with respect and kept my nose out of too much trouble. By the time I was twelve I could sew, cook, hunt, shoot, speak two and a half languages, play Mozart from memory, and fix everything from a leaky faucet to a horse-drawn combine. I could discuss art and science, history and literature, and had learned the etiquette and social graces needed to navigate a white man’s world.”

His eyes hardened. “But none of that mattered to old Jim Crow.” He didn’t bother disguising his anger, and the shadows in the room began to stretch unnaturally. “Dress in fine clothes, pressed and clean, and you were accused of acting uppity. Defend a young lady’s honor and walk her home, and her father would still threaten to string you up from a sycamore. Work harder and put in longer hours than any of your co-workers, and you still made pennies to their dollar.”

The weight of his words was not lost on her, and the soft, caring part of her felt a sudden urge to wrap her arms around him, to try to erase a modicum of his pain. But she thought better of it, given the man’s true nature and his aversions. Instead, she simply extended a nervous, trembling hand.

His eyes flitted over her, an expression she couldn’t place flashing across his face. Eventually he mirrored her gesture, entirely covering her outstretched palm.

“I’m so sorry, Al,” she said, giving his hand a light squeeze.

“It’s the way of the world, I'm afraid,” he said with a sigh, withdrawing from her. “But you needn’t worry, dearest. It’s ancient history now. No use crying over spilled milk, as my mother always said.”

They returned to their preparations, silence stretching between them. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. It was strange, seeing him be so open with her like this. He seemed to enjoy putting on an air of mystery and keeping his true intentions hidden. This, however, was a moment of connection that struck her as raw and real, exactly what she’d needed but not at all what she’d expected. But then again, could she ever really know what to expect from Alastor?

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For telling me that. It’s nice to know a little more about you.”

He blinked at her, as if he was confused by her sentiments, then slipped back into his normal jovial persona.

“You’re quite welcome, sweetheart! Now, those sausages won’t slice themselves. Quit lollygagging and get to it!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” She gave him a little salute and he grinned.

“Atta girl!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter touched on some very serious issues, and as a non-Black writer, I have done my best to present these topics in a respectful manner. As usual, I welcome any and all constructive criticism.
> 
> If you're able to, I urge you to donate to your local Black Lives Matter chapter or a similar mutual aid project doing work in your area to fight against racial discrimination, anti-Blackness and police brutality. 
> 
> A lot of time and reading went into this particular installment, especially as it pertains to my headcanons regarding Alastor's upbringing and life as a mixed-race man in Louisiana, and the historical events that influenced the social and political climate of the time. 
> 
> While just after the Civil War New Orleans was a city which afforded slightly more freedom to it's non-white residents, especially those who were mixed race and been classified as "free people of color" prior to 1865, during and after Reconstruction a racist backlash from the city's white residents lead to many efforts at establishing social equality being hindered and the reversal of the small signs of progress that had been made. Another turning point came in 1892, when New Orleans civil rights activist Homer Plessy bought a first-class train ticket, attempted to sit up front with the train's white passengers, and was promptly arrested. This lead to the 1896 US Supreme Court Case _Plessy vs. Ferguson,_ in which the court ruled against Homer Plessy and made segregation the _de jure_ law of the land, perpetuating the myth of "separate but equal." As a result, Black people in Louisiana were effectively stripped of the right to vote, public facilities were strictly segregated, and in 1908 a state law was passed which forbade marriage or cohabitation between Black and white residents of the state. By the time the 1920s rolled around, the Klu Klux Klan had gained power nationwide, and events such as the Tulsa Race Massacre had further exacerbated racial tensions.
> 
> This tumultuous political climate and rampant, widespread violence and discrimination no doubt took a toll on young Alastor and his family, and as the story progresses I hope to further explore how such a life influenced his psyche and shaped his motivations and actions both in the land of the living and the afterlife.
> 
> Another interesting tidbit: the song Lee is singing was first recorded in the 1867 book "Slave Songs of the United States." It has its roots as a traditional spiritual, and is believed to have first been composed by an African American who was enslaved. Some scholars believe that like many songs and spirituals of the time, the hymn contains coded advice for those hoping to escape enslavement (ex: "the river" being walked in to throw off the scent of hunting dogs, using the "starry crown" to navigate). It's also one of my favorite gospel songs, so I just had to include it.
> 
> Well, there's your history lesson for today, I guess! Also, if anyone wants to take the VoiceActor!Alastor idea and run with it, please do so lol. I'll be back as usual next Tuesday with another chapter and a very special announcement. Have a great week! <3
> 
> Further reading: 
> 
> https://64parishes.org/entry/jim-crowsegregation  
> https://64parishes.org/entry/plessy-v-ferguson/  
> https://www.law.cornell.edu/supremecourt/text/163/537


	20. Tis the Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Christmas approaches, Lee seeks help from an unlikely source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy everyone responded so positively to the last chapter, and that my choices in terms of Al's backstory and characterization have been so well-received. I especially enjoyed hearing from my Black readers and other readers of color <3\. Representation matters, and I'm so glad HH has given us so many characters of diverse backgrounds and identities to learn about and make art for. 
> 
> Also, good news! Now that the semester is well and truly over, I finally have time to write again. It's been slower going than I'd like, and some of my stuff is coming out choppy and will need lots of revision, but I'm still putting pen to paper, so to speak. Case en pointe: Yesterday I finally figured out how to resolve a scene that's been a pain in my ass for over two weeks now.
> 
> I really like updating this and seeing all your reactions, so please know that behind the scenes your dear author is still attempting to be industrious! This fic is my baby, and while I can't promise that we'll never divert from weekly uploads, I'm going to do everything I can to keep my schedule the same.
> 
> That being said, I've got a short and sweet one for y'all today! However, don't think that's all you're getting. Be sure to read the end notes for a special announcement! :)

One of the few things about Hell that Lee had come to appreciate was that even though many of the sinners trapped down here were the baddest of the bad, most of them kept at least some ties to their original cultures they’d had in the human world. Combine that with the fact that demons would find pretty much any excuse to party, and the result was the denizens of Hell celebrating a huge mishmash of holidays and traditions, some originating from nations that had long since fallen and religions that died out centuries ago. As a result, Christmas was less of a major holiday down here, with more established occasions like the solstices and equinoxes being more universal days of celebration.

That hadn’t deterred Charlie from wanting to pull out all the stops, though. As soon as the first of December came, she had set about thoroughly decking the halls of the Hazbin Hotel and had recruited Lee and Niffty to help make things, quote: “ah-may-zingly festive.” They had hung wreaths, made popcorn garlands to decorate the tree (which were quickly found and eaten by Fat Nuggets), and strung up colored lights from the lobby’s high ceiling.

There had also been attempts at many wholesome Christmas activities, most of which went horribly wrong. Decorating cookies had ended up in an icing fight between Vaggie and Angel, Niffty had somehow managed to set her gingerbread house on fire, and Alastor had been thoroughly amused by Charlie trying to explain to Husk that writing a letter asking Santa for “a shit ton of booze” was not in the spirit of the season. Even Charlie’s attempt to do a Christmas sing-along had been thwarted when Angel broke into a wildly suggestive rendition of “Santa Baby.”

Lee had sensed the poor demoness was starting to feel a little dejected, so when Vaggie suggested they do Secret Santa, she had been quick to voice her support. The only problem was that she had drawn Angel’s name, and they still weren’t on great terms. He was speaking to her outside of insulting her, sure, but it was far from the same: he’d stopped texting her pictures of Fat Nuggets, didn’t join her when she was having a drink at the bar, and no longer regaled her with his tales from work, as gross as they could sometimes be. She knew this could be an opportunity to make amends, but he had expensive tastes that were far outside her budget, even though she’d been able to save a little more in the month since their ill-fated shopping trip. So, one week before the big day, she had decided to go to an unlikely source for help.

“Hey Husk, what do you think Angel would want for Christmas?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Husk asked, a sour look on his face.

“I mean, he spends a lot of time with you…” Lee said, taking a seat across from him at the bar.

“More like he annoys the shit outta me.”

“Yeah, but you guys talk at least.”

“ _He_ talks, I just drink and try to tune him out.”

This wasn’t going at all how she’d hoped.

“Get him a dildo or something, I don’t know.” The grizzled cat took a swig from a bottle labeled “Cheap Booze.”

“Vaggie would have my head. Besides, the last thing I need is to remind him of work.” She couldn’t hide the flicker of sadness in her voice.

Husk slowly set the bottle down. “Tell me what happened.”

She looked up in surprise.

“What, you think I didn’t notice you two aren’t drinkin’ buddies anymore? Something happened, and you’re gonna spill it,” he said, before adding, “Not ‘cuz I care, but ‘cuz you’re bumming me out.”

“Well,” Lee tugged at the hem of her sweater nervously, “we were out shopping, and when he was trying on clothes I saw he had this big bruise on his side. I asked how he got it and he just went off on me. I was trying to show him I cared, but I think I pushed him too far.”

“Ya think? He’s in the industry, kid. Gettin’ roughed up comes with the territory thanks to that damn boss of his,” he scowled.

“I just wanted to help!”

“How?! You ain’t got no connections, no money, and you can’t fight for shit, never mind the fact that you’re fuckin' human.”

“Well, I wanted him to know he could talk to me, that I cared!”

Husk laughed. “You’ve only known the guy for a few weeks, and you expect him to start spillin’ his guts to you? And then what, you’d preach to him about how fucked up his situation was, and he’d walk away from the life he’s had for decades? I knew you were young but jeez...”

Lee’s face burned with shame. When he put it like that, it did sound like a stupid idea.

“I just thought he would, since…”

“Since _what?”_

“Al shares stuff with me, and he’s way more into the whole ‘being mysterious’ thing. So, I figured if he of all people was willing to talk to me, Angel would be too.”

Husk’s sardonic grin dropped. “Whaddaya mean, _‘Al’_ shares stuff with you?”

“I mean,” she hesitated, getting the feeling she’d inadvertently opened a huge can of worms, “it’s just little things. Like cooking tips, or books he thinks I should read, or what his job was like back when he was alive.”

His expression was grim. “There’s somethin’ you’re not telling me.”

“What’s there to tell? He’s just been really nice and friendly lately!” Lee forced a nervous smile, unsure of what else to say. Should she tell him about the deal he offered? If she did, would Charlie and Vaggie find out and send her away?

“Look. I don’t know what bullshit he’s tryin’ to rope you into, and I don’t really care. All I can say is, no matter what he’s promising, it ain’t worth it.” There was a hint of resignation in his voice. “It never is.”

“I’m not an idiot,” she bristled. “I know he’s got some sort of agenda, and I know no matter what he says I’m not going to go along with whatever he’s planning. I’m just saying that even though he’s an insufferable sonofabitch, he’s _interesting,_ and it’s been almost nice to get to know him.”

“You’re playin’ with fire, kid.”

“Now who’s preaching to whom?” She got up with a huff. “Whatever, I’m gonna go ask Charlie. Thanks for your ‘help,’ Husk.”

She had made it halfway to the stairs when he called after her: “Angel’s been through a lot. Don’t give him somethin’ flashy you saw in a magazine. Give him somethin’ with heart. Make it sappy or some shit.”

A smile crept across her face as she continued walking.

_So much for having no clue what to get him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of the end of the year, and the various holidays therein (Christmas, Boxing Day, Kwanzaa, etc.), this week you'll be getting not one, not two, but THREE bonus chapters! This also helps me keep the timeline of the story in line with the present day, at least for now. Then next week you get your regular Tuesday installment as well as an extra special chapter on New Years Eve, both of which are some of my favorite things I've ever written. The timeline will inevitably diverge later on because I can only write and edit so fast, but I want to finish 2020 with a bang!
> 
> Chapter 21 drops on Christmas Day, Chapter 22 drops on the first day of Kwanzaa/Boxing Day, Chapter 23 drops on the first Sunday after Christmas. That's three days in a row with new words, gifted with love from me to all of you! It's gonna be sweet, it's gonna have a touch of angst, and... things are gonna get a bit spicy...
> 
> Anyway, how are y'all doing? Finishing up school? Making holiday plans? Make/write/draw anything cool recently? Let me know in the comments! :) Also, please make sure you're taking care of yourself! This time of year can be very hectic and stressful so make sure you're getting enough food, water, sleep and taking any medications on time.
> 
> I love you, and I'll see you all very, very soon!
> 
> Regina <3


	21. Holiday from Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee spends Christmas with the Hazbins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals! Posting a bit early because I can't wait any longer lol.
> 
> Love you <3

Black.

Dark.

Nothing.

And then there was a murmur. A whisper.

She strained to make out the words.

“…position……..bed so…..member to clean the…”

The voice sounded so far away. She tried to move closer, only to find she was stuck, bodiless and formless.

_No._

_No!_

_Not again, please no!_

And she was gone.

* * *

Lee’s eyes flew open as she awoke with a start. The pounding of her heart was at once worrying and comforting, and as she wiped sweat from her brow, she was relieved to find she did in fact still have a body.

_It was just a dream._

A brief, strange dream, and the first one she could recall having since she found herself in Hell nearly three months before. She glanced at her phone. 4:47 AM, December 25th. She groaned. Sure, waking up early on Christmas morning was traditional, but this was a little ridiculous.

After trying and failing to fall back asleep for another hour or so, she decided to bite the bullet and make her way downstairs. Still in her pajamas, she padded down the grand staircase. The Christmas lights shone like stars in the early morning darkness of the lobby, and the fireplace was still glowing faintly, illuminating the stockings hanging from its mantle. If it hadn’t been for the portraits of demons on the walls, the scene wouldn’t have looked out of place in a cheesy Hallmark movie.

She glanced at the presents under the tree, specifically at the small pink box she had carefully placed there the night before. She’d taken Husk’s advice, and after some thought and a little bit of help from a friend, she had come up with what she hoped would be a suitable gift. Still, she was nervous about how it would be received, as she had found herself missing Angel’s antics more and more lately and didn’t want her attempt at a peace offering to backfire.

The tile of the kitchen was cold against her bare feet, and she shivered as she set about brewing a fresh pot of coffee. Her thoughts turned upward, as they usually did when she was alone, and she wondered how her family was spending the holidays. Normally she would be enjoying a pancake breakfast with her parents, then opening presents with fingers still sticky from syrup.

But now they were worlds apart. She knew she was somehow still alive, so she figured she was likely in a coma in some hospital on the surface. This year, were they huddled around her bed, holding her hands and talking to her as if she could hear them? Had Talia been by to visit yet? How was her extended family coping? God, what sort of state was her body in?

Melancholy flooded in as she grabbed a mug from the cabinet. All she wanted was to go home, but she didn’t even know if that was possible. What if she was stuck here forever? Was she condemned to spend the rest of eternity in this hotel?

She was so lost in thought that she spilled a few drops of hot coffee on herself, mug nearly overflowing as she poured absentmindedly. She hissed in pain and rushed to the sink, frantically dousing her hands as she tried to quell the burning sensation. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and tears pricked at her eyes. She was so _lonely._

_I miss my Mom_ …

“Are you ok?”

Lee turned to see Niffty standing in the doorway, still clad in her nightgown and fuzzy slippers. She looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed, and turned off the tap.

“Yeah, Niff,” she said, “just missing home.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but her throat closed up as a new wave of emotion swept away any trace of composure.

Burying her head in her hands, she sank to the floor, her body wracked with sobs. As much as Charlie and some of the others might try to make her feel welcome, this wasn’t her home. She was out of place, a puzzle piece that didn’t fit, a pencil in a box of crayons. And while not fitting in with literal demons didn’t normally bother her (in fact, she would be far more disturbed if she _did_ fit in), on days like today she couldn’t ignore her persistent need for connection. She was so distraught she barely noticed the sensation of tiny arms wrapping around her shoulders.

“Hey, don’t cry! It’s Christmas!” Niffty said, squeezing her tight. Even though Lee was now sitting on the floor, the little cyclops only had a few inches on her. She sat there for a while, leaning into her embrace. It’d been so long since anyone had comforted her like this, she hadn’t realized how much she needed it.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, resting her head on her shoulder.

“Don’t be sorry, silly!” Niffty said, pulling back to face her. “It’s ok to be sad, and it’s hard being away from home. I sure know it was for me at first. But today is a day for celebrating, and we should try to make the most of it anyway.”

Lee nodded, sniffling.

“Wanna know a trick?” she asked, wiping away her tears with her tiny thumbs. “You should try to smile anyway, even if you feel like crying. It fools your brain into being happier, and it makes sure people don’t see you being so sad.”

Lee managed to muster a weak smile. Strangely, she did feel a tiny bit better. Niffty beamed.

“There we go!” she chirped, “Much better. After all, you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”

She felt a trickle of genuine mirth. When she was eight, she’d been in a summertime production of “Annie” at the community theater, playing one of the orphan girls in the ensemble. That was where she’d first met Talia, and while as they grew it became clear musicals were more Talia’s thing than hers, to this day she could still remember most of the words to the songs.

“I didn’t pick you for a musical theater fan. Charlie must be rubbing off on you, huh?”

The little cyclops looked confused. “It’s a song? I thought it was just something Mister Alastor said.” Lee’s grin faltered, and Niffty added, “I’d love to hear it though!”

A few minutes later they were tapping their feet as Lee’s phone played hits from the Broadway cast recording, stirring a giant bowl full of pancake batter. Niffty had to stand on a stool to reach the counter, but her sense of balance was remarkable, stepping and hi-kicking to the music as they readied a breakfast feast for the rest of the hotel.

“Hey Niffty?” Lee asked, cracking a few eggs into a sizzling pan.

“Yeah?”

“Why would it matter if people saw me crying?”

The little demon frowned. “People around here are awfully rude. Out there, if someone saw you upset, they’d either laugh at you or try to hurt you more.”

“That’s terrible…”

“Yeah, but it’s just another reason to smile! Mister Alastor says smiling shows you’re strong, and down here you hafta be strong to make it.”

 _Well, that explains a lot,_ she thought. She’d suspected his persistent grin was just a way for him to unnerve people while hiding his true intentions, but it made sense that it acted as a defense mechanism as well.

_“Joyeux Noël, mes chers!”_

_Speak of the devil._

“ _Merīkurisumasu_ , Mister Alastor!” Niffty grinned as she began to ladle the batter into the other frying pan. He ruffled her hair affectionately.

Even he’d gotten a bit into the spirit of things, it seemed. He’d ditched his formal wear in favor of a red turtleneck sweater and some black slacks, and while he was still impossibly tall, with the absence of his jacket he cut a less dramatic figure: lean with a trim waist and narrow hips, broad-shouldered in a way that didn’t appear disproportionate. It was strange seeing him outside of his crimson uniform, but it made him look more normal, softer, somehow. The black and red gloves, however, seemed to be a constant, and the red metal nails served as an unwelcome reminder of his true nature.

“Didn’t think you’d be around today. Thought you’d have some poor souls to terrorize,” Lee said.

“Oh, that can wait a bit! Right now, I think you ladies could use a helping hand!”

“No, we’re fine.” She already had one demon neurotically cleaning every spare drop of batter and speck of grease as they cooked, she didn’t need to be micromanaged more.

He made a few clicking and buzzing sounds, like a radio changing stations, but said nothing, seemingly content to hover just a little too close for comfort.

“Want some coffee?” The words slipped out of her mouth unbidden. There was a squeal of confused static, then a bit of a jolly tune.

“Black, darling.”

She grabbed a mug from the cabinet and left Niffty to watch the stove. The coffee was still hot, steam swirling from its surface, and the pot was mostly full despite her earlier accident.

“You sure you don’t want a bit of sugar?” she asked, pouring more carefully this time around.

“No, I don’t usually care for sweet things.”

She turned, mug in hand, only to nearly knock into him, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim. It was unnerving, how quiet he could be when he wanted to. Her mind conjured up images of an alligator, drifting by the water’s edge without so much as a ripple, ready to ambush its unfortunate prey.

A gloved hand reached up to tuck a few stray hairs behind her ear, and her breath caught in her throat.

“But I suppose I could always make an exception.” He looked down at her through hooded eyes, his voice much lower than she’d expected as he ran his knuckles down the side of her jaw. She tried to suppress her shiver. What was he _doing?_

Quick as a flash he stepped back, coffee in hand. She hadn’t even realized he’d grabbed it.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He shot her a wink as he brought the mug to his lips.

* * *

By the time they began opening presents, it was nearly one o’clock. Angel had taken his sweet time getting up, and Husk kept trying to sneak whiskey into his coffee. Charlie and Vaggie, clad in a set of couples “Naughty” and “Nice” Christmas sweaters, had also insisted on making everyone pitch in to clean up afterwards, a formidable task in and of itself.

Thanks to Charlie’s efforts everyone had at least one gift under the tree, though some had a few more, like the new outfits Alastor bought Niffty or the charm bracelet Vaggie got for Charlie. As for her own gifts, Lee was surprised to see three under the tree: A bag with a few t-shirts from Charlie and Vaggie, some new shoes from Niffty, and a small, ornately wrapped box without a label that Charlie insisted she leave unopened until they played Secret Santa.

Most of her own presents for the crew went over well: A music-note necklace for Charlie, a set of new hair bows for Vaggie, a skirt for Niffty, and even some new books for Razzle and Dazzle (while they didn’t talk much, it turned out they were voracious readers). Others were met with a bit less enthusiasm. Angel forced out a halfhearted thanks upon receiving a set of matching headbands for him and Fat Nuggets, and Husk grumbled as usual after opening his gift.

“I don’t even wear shirts most’a the time…” he muttered, holding up an oversized t-shirt that said “Go Fuck Yourself” in loopy cursive.

“I know, but I thought it was funny,” she said sheepishly.

“Whatever.”

“Well I think it’s quite amusing, Husker! And thank you so much for your lovely gift, my dear. I’ll be sure to put it to good use!” Alastor grinned, folding his plain red apron. She’d initially been unsure whether to get him anything at all, but he had been keeping up his good behavior, and guilt won out in the end.

Angel’s gift of a new pinstriped fedora from Husk was received with his usual flirtatious flair, with comments about how he’d be happy to pose for Husk wearing the hat and nothing else. In contrast, the grumpy cat demon had actually blushed when he opened his gift from Angel: A new set of poker chips and cards accompanied by a lipstick-stained note reading “I’m all in, baby.” He tried to cover his tracks by acting standoffish and grouchy, but carefully tucked the note away all the same.

A package for Angel had also shown up a few days prior, labeled “Do Not Open Until Christmas.” He eagerly shredded the wrapping paper only to reveal a set of exercise videos entitled “Don’t Wait: Watch Your Weight!”

“That’s ridiculous, you’re a fuckin’ stick already,” Husk said, sipping his eggnog.

“Val just wants me to look my best,” he said, waving away his concerns, “After all, this body is high-maintenance.”

“Still, it’s not very nice…” Charlie trailed off.

When the time came to play, the mystery gifts ended up not being much of a mystery. Vaggie received a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs that were obviously from Angel and almost certainly second-hand. The party stalled for a bit as they got into a shouting match which lasted a good five minutes before Charlie broke it up, insisting that it’s the thought that counts and whispering something in Vaggie’s ear that made a dark flush spread across her cheeks.

Nervous anticipation fluttered in Lee’s stomach as Angel began to unwrap her gift, her own present temporarily forgotten. He tore open the paper, opened the small box, and laughed.

“Seriously? Socks?” He pulled out a pair of hot pink knee-highs embroidered with his initials. “That’s fuckin’ lame.”

Lee just smiled. She’d expected this reaction. Now it was time for the reveal.

“I made them myself, you know.”

The spider’s sassy retort died on his lips. Charlie halfheartedly scolded her, saying it was _Secret_ Santa, but she ignored her.

“You… made these? For me?” He looked absolutely dumbfounded.

“You wear boots a lot so I figured you could use a new pair. Niffty helped, too,” she said, gesturing to the little cyclops, who was bouncing up and down with excitement.

Truthfully, she’d left most of the embroidery work to Niffty’s nimble fingers, but she’d selected the fabric, cut the pattern, and sewed them all by herself. It took some trial and error, and a few close calls when Lee accidentally pricked her finger and had to leave the room, but between the two of them they had managed to stitch a soft, stretchy and perfectly proportioned pair for the lanky man.

“That’s nice,” he said, running his fingers over the monogrammed letters. Lee thought she could see him well up a bit. “Real nice. Thanks, toots.”

“You’re welcome.”

She began undoing her gift’s elaborate bow, watching as everyone else opened their presents. Niffty was overjoyed to get a feather duster, Husk mumbled that his new blue bow-tie was “alright,” Charlie feigned enthusiasm as best she could upon receiving a flask with “Motherfucking Princess” engraved on it, and Alastor tucked his new fountain pen into his pocket with a gracious smile. After managing to untie the ribbon (the knotwork was more akin to something a sailor would tie), she pulled the lid off of the small box and gasped.

Nestled between sheets of red tissue paper was a wooden music box. It was a rich, dark mahogany, with delicately carved roses and vines snaking around the sides. She took it gingerly in her hands and flipped it open, revealing ornate brass gears and machinery. The inside of the lid was carved as well, showing a woman asleep in the crook of a crescent moon amidst a field of stars.

It was _beautiful._

“Wow, it’s so pretty!” Niffty leaned over to get a better look. Angel whistled appreciatively.

“What is it, anyway?” Vaggie asked.

“It’s a music box, dear. Lovely little contraptions they are!” Alastor said.

“Well? Wind it up!” Charlie was on the edge of her seat.

Lee grinned at her. The princess had clearly gotten this for her and couldn’t wait to see her reaction. With a smidge of dramatic flair, she made a show of winding up the box, but kept her fingers on the crank.

“Drumroll, please!” She winked at Charlie, who began patting her chair with gusto. Lee jumped at the staticky sound of an actual drum line, then laughed. Alastor was anything if not theatrical. With the eyes of everyone on her, she let go of the handle.

She nearly dropped the box when she recognized the melody that began to play.

_Moonlight._

_Sweet words._

_Hands on hers._

“Nocturne,” she breathed.

She looked at Alastor, who was grinning like the cat who ate the canary. It was such a nice gift that she had thought Charlie was the only one who could have given it to her. The idea that Alastor of all people could do something so thoughtful hadn’t even crossed her mind.

"Thank you,” she murmured. He simply nodded in reply.

Husk glanced between the two of them and got up, trudging towards the bar.

“I need a fuckin’ drink.”

* * *

After several rounds of eggnog and mulled wine, permitted by Vaggie in the spirit of the season, Charlie’s attempts at singing Christmas songs were a bit more well received. She, Angel, Niffty and Alastor made a wonderful quartet, and did their best to remember the words to hits like “Jingle Bell Rock” and “Winter Wonderland.” Vaggie, unfortunately, couldn’t carry a tune to save her life, and Husk had grouchily refused, stating he found the whole thing “fuckin’ annoying,” even as he tapped his feet to the rhythm of their tunes. Lee sat quietly, feeling warm from the alcohol, content to listen to them stumble through half-remembered songs with all the enthusiasm of a professional choir.

The rest of the festivities proceeded swimmingly, much to Charlie’s delight. Christmas dinner was a veritable feast, with ham, turkey, stuffing, salads, casseroles, and more filling the dining table. Lee raised an eyebrow when Alastor served himself a heaping portion of venison, but that was soon forgotten when he produced a lovely Buche de Noël cake for dessert. Next came winter-themed charades, which Vaggie absolutely dominated, and watching Die Hard, which Husk insisted was indeed a Christmas movie. He fell asleep halfway through, only to be woken by their laughter when he started to snore.

Lee’s heart was light as the evening wound down. While the absence of her family still stung, being surrounded by people and distracted most of the day had helped considerably. It had been almost normal, and the prospect of ringing in the New Year surrounded by demons seemed less daunting than before.

She wiped down the bar as a favor to Husk, who had already turned in for the night, humming along to the familiar winter tunes that were playing. However, when she went to flick off the bar’s radio, she was surprised to see it was already off. She followed the sound of the music, looking across the lobby to see Alastor sitting by the fireplace, eyes closed.

The smart thing to do would have been to march right upstairs and go to bed, as being alone with Alastor was never a good idea. However, part of her nagged to at least say goodnight to him, or maybe thank him again for her gift.

 _He’s been well-behaved lately,_ she thought. _And it’s Christmas! I might as well try to be nice._

She was already halfway across the darkened lobby when her more rational side kicked in. She shouldn’t be doing this. Everyone else was already in their rooms for the night, and this was asking for trouble. Besides, he’s probably asleep.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Her hopes were dashed when Alastor cracked an eye open, giving her a lopsided smile.

_Well, shit._

“Uh… hi,” she said. She tugged at the hem of her sweater, feeling strangely self-conscious. “I just wanted to say thanks again. For your gift, I mean. It was really nice. And pretty.”

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ She was stumbling over her words like a nervous schoolgirl. She’d clearly had too much to drink.

“You’re quite welcome, dear.” He gestured for her to come closer.

She shuffled over, awkwardly perching on the opposite end of the sofa. They sat quietly for a while, listening to the gentle music that emanated from him. She glanced at the open book fanned across his lap: a thin copy of “A Christmas Carol.”

“I have a question, if you’ll so indulge me,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Do I scare you?” he asked with a note of genuine curiosity.

She snorted. “Are you kidding? You’re terrifying.”

He hummed in approval and grinned, the glow from the fireplace casting half his face in shadow. A chill ran through her.

“And yet you came to me anyways, all alone.” There was a teasing lit to his voice. “I wonder, does that make you brave? Or foolish?”

“A bit of both, I guess. Mostly foolish,” she admitted with a shrug, trying to push down her feeling of unease.

He chuckled. “Maybe you were craving my company.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she rolled her eyes. “I just wanted to be polite.”

“But you _have_ been lonely, haven’t you?” She looked at him with confusion. “A little one-eyed dame told me so.”

_Note to self, Niffty tells Al everything._

“It’s not a big deal,” she said. “I was just missing my family.” The last thing she needed was to give him another button to push. She could take a lot of shit, but her family was absolutely off-limits.

“I see.” There was a far off look in his eyes as his gaze shifted to the crackling fire. “The pain never fades, you know. I still miss my darling mother.”

It was an unexpected admission, especially from one so tight-lipped about his true feelings.

“Is she in Heaven?”

“I assume so. The woman was a saint,” he smiled softly.

“But doesn’t that help? Knowing she’s in a better place?”

“Better, perhaps. But eternally separated nonetheless.”

It was weird to think about him caring about anyone, but he sounded sincere. She supposed even demons love their mothers. But how far would a mother’s love go?

“Did she know? What you did?” Lee fidgeted, tugging on an errant thread in her sweater.

“No. She died when I was young.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said with genuine sympathy. Another thought struck her. “Is that why you… turned out the way you did? Why you did all those terrible things when you grew up?”

He laughed bitterly. “Oh no, darling. I was a monster long before I became a man.”

“You don’t have to be, though,” she said. “Charlie’s whole vision for this place is about second chances. Have you ever considered trying to change?”

“To what end?” he asked. “Our dear princess may have her head in the clouds, but my feet are on _terra firma_. I am what I am, and I will not be ashamed of it.” He picked up the book in his lap. “Unlike the esteemed Mr. Dickens, I know that redemption is a ludicrous notion, and even if it was possible, it would be _boring_. There is no undoing what is done, dearest.”

She paused. For the first time, she felt a trickle of doubt about the hotel’s mission. It also made her worry about her own fate. Did this mean she was truly condemned to be trapped in Hell forever? What about after she died for real? Would all her little sins mean she would end up back here?

“I’ll let you get back to your book then. G’night,” she said, anxiety blooming in her stomach.

She’s barely gotten up before something wrapped around her, pulling her back onto the couch. She squealed in fright, only to realize she was now wrapped in a heavy, cozy blanket, a mug of what looked like cocoa in her hands.

“Marley was dead, to begin with.”

“What?” She glanced across the sofa at Alastor, puzzled.

“The first line of ‘A Christmas Carol,’ darling!” he said, gesturing with the open book in his hand. “I used to read excerpts on the radio around this time of year. Have you read it?”

“No, but I—"

“You were feeling lonesome, were you not?” He cut her off, raising an eyebrow. “And I’m feeling generous! How about a private performance from yours truly?” A snap of his fingers and she gasped as her blanketed body was pulled towards him, pressing her against his side. A strange thrill ran through her as his hand came to rest on her knee.

“Stay, won’t you?” His tone was gentle, his smile soft.

He was dangerous. Monstrous. A manipulative hedonist.

She knew she shouldn’t.

But she really didn’t want to be alone tonight.

“Okay.”

“ _Wonderful,_ ” he grinned, giving her knee a light squeeze.

“Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you want to listen to Lee's music box: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHSkWmBp6LQ
> 
> I hope you enjoyed Part 1 of our Holiday Spectacular! And yes, I just had to sprinkle some light Chaggie and Angelhusk in here because they're pairings I love. 
> 
> Also, I don't know if it's just me being old, but I love getting new socks for Christmas, especially funny ones. Still, socks have a reputation as a "shitty" present, so it was fun to subvert that trope a bit.  
> 
> 
> Be sure to tune in tomorrow for Part 2! :D


	22. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee and Angel have movie night. Alastor crashes the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments you left on yesterday's chapter! You comments always give me life, and make me feel like I'm not just shouting into the void. They were the best Christmas present I could ever ask for! <3
> 
> Without further ado, here's Part 2 of our Holiday Spectacular!

It seemed Lee’s Christmas gift had done its job and thawed the ice between her and Angel. Case en pointe: He was currently sitting next to her at the bar, ranting about how much of a tragedy it was that she’d never seen the movie _Titanic_.

“Oh my God, toots, it’s so good! Leo looks like such a snack, too. I’d let his steamship ram my iceberg, if ya know what I’m sayin’.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she said with a giggle.

He swirled his martini, taking a light sip. “Seriously, though. Ya gotta see it. It’s long, but me an’ my girl Cherri made it into a game where ya drink whenever you see the necklace, or when someone says the damn boat’s ‘unsinkable.’ We got so trashed!”

“Maybe we could watch it together?” she asked, keeping her tone casual. She couldn’t come on too strong, lest she get another tongue lashing.

He narrowed his eyes and huffed. “Fine. But only ‘cuz I feel sorry for ya.”

Two hours later they were parked in front of the TV in the piano lounge, thoroughly tipsy, watching as Jack lifted Rose up onto the bow of the ship at sunset. Angel was sniffling lightly.

“You ok?” Lee asked, head a bit foggy from drinking.

“I’m fine, alright?” he said, teary-eyed. “Shuddup.”

 _Sure you are,_ she thought. Despite the sleazy tough-guy act, she had guessed Angel was a bit of a romantic. She wondered if he was picturing himself and Husk, or some other paramour, wind in their hair, staring out across the endless ocean.

She was shaken from her reverie by the sound of the door to the lounge opening, and the feeling of static on her skin.

_Just my luck…_

“Why, hello there! I didn’t expect to see you two, especially not looking so splifficated!” 

“We’re just watchin’ a movie, Smiles. Kid’s never seen it, and she’s been missin’ out.”

He raised an eyebrow and gestured to the shot glasses and half-empty bottle on the coffee table. “Is that all?”

“Hey, you drink as much as I do! Don’t get all high and mighty on me now, string bean,” Angel scoffed.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Though I’m afraid you’re going to have to take your activities elsewhere. I feel like playing a few tunes tonight and would like some privacy.” He tilted his head to the side, expectant.

“Well Lee and I,” Angel slung his arm over her shoulders, “ain’t moving, so you’re shit outta luck.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed and the static around him grew louder, his grin stretching into more of a snarl. Angel held his gaze, not moving a muscle. The air was thick with tension.

“You could watch with us!” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“What?!” Angel shot her a look.

“Uh, it’s a n-nice movie,” she stammered, “It’s set in 1912, and a lot of people die in the end. It’s about the Titanic disaster.” She wasn’t sure why she’d offered, but she knew she didn’t want the two of them getting into a brawl she’d inevitably have to clean up.

He made a clicking noise, like a radio changing stations.

“…alright,” Alastor said. “I will view your picture, and then you will leave.”

Lee relaxed as the tense mood dissipated.

“Have a seat, deer daddy,” Angel drawled, patting his lap with one of his free hands. She had to hold back a laugh at Alastor’s shocked face.

“Absolutely not,” he said, moving instead to sit on the other side of Lee. A nervous twinge ran through her. Alastor had been touchier than usual lately, and she’d found herself still puzzling over a few of his more suggestive turns of phrase. His insistence on keeping her company on Christmas (and the affection he’d shown her) had also been strange. But he simply folded his hands in his lap, stretching out his long legs in front of him.

They watched for a while, and Lee found herself enjoying the film more than she’d thought she would. Romance wasn’t exactly her thing, but the visuals were stunning, and the costumes were so elaborate and luxurious; it was truly a feast for the eyes. She even ended up liking Rose, even though she had initially dismissed her as just another whiny rich girl. No one deserved to be forced into a marriage, especially with such a pompous asshole of a fiancé.

“I want you to draw me like one of your French girls,” Rose said on-screen.

Lee felt heat spread through her as the socialite disrobed, feeling just as flustered as Jack did. Normally watching this stuff didn’t get to her, but she was already on edge from being in such close quarters with a certain someone.

“You ok?” Angel nudged her in the ribs, teasingly repeating her words from earlier.

“Yeah,” she muttered.

“Aww, is little Lee gettin’ a bit hot an’ bothered?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Stop it, Angel.” She caught Alastor watching her out of the corner of his eye. “What are—"

A buzzing sound stopped her short. Angel groaned and fished his phone out of his jacket pocket, his face falling as he saw just who was trying to reach him.

“I gotta take this,” he muttered, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie. “Hey, Big Vee…” he purred as he answered the phone, rushing out of the room.

And now here she was, alone with Alastor, feeling nervous. _Again._

“You promised that people would die. I haven’t seen any death yet, just gratuitous nudity!”

“The death’s coming, I swear.” She leaned in slightly, adopting an exaggerating stage-whisper. “Spoiler alert: the boat sinks.”

That got a bit of a chuckle out of him. “I’m well aware. I remember reading about it in the paper at the time.”

She barked out a laugh, then registered that he wasn’t joking. “How old were you?”

“Nine, I believe.”

“ _Nine?_ That’d make you—"

“One hundred and eighteen, dear. Though down here folks put more stock in death days than birthdays,” he said. “It’s a good thing, too, otherwise our dear princess would be considered quite the cradle-robber.”

“But Charlie’s like, what, 26?”

He smirked. “You’re off by about two hundred and fifty years.”

_"WHAT?!”_

“Yes, my bubbly business partner is at least twice as old as I am. Though I must say her age does not translate into experience, unfortunately.”

“That’s… really weird to think about.” Sure, some of the clothes Charlie had lent Lee were a bit old-fashioned, but she’d chalked it up to differences in taste. “How come she seems so modern?”

“Most of these loathsome sinners like to keep up with the land of the living, even as eternity stretches out before us.”

“But you don’t.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t care for most things that came after my time. They lack charm, class, character.”

“And when was that?”

For a moment she feared she’d asked too personal a question, but he didn’t bat an eye at it. “I met my end in 1933. I had just turned 31.”

She winced. 31 was too young even for someone as infuriating as he could be. But it did explain some of his quirks, and she could sympathize, what with her finding herself in Hell at the ripe old age of 23. Perhaps he was upset he’d died so young, and was trying to keep the party going, so to speak.

 _At least he doesn’t look his real age,_ she thought. _Must be nice to be in your thirties forever._

“Can I ask how—"

 _“No,”_ he said, “you may _not.”_

_Curiosity killed the cat, Lee._

“Sorry,” she muttered.

They sat in uncomfortable silence as she hoped and prayed Angel would return, and fast. He turned to look at her, a small smile on his face and a mischievous glint in his eye.

“What?” she asked, suspicious.

“Oh, nothing,” he said. She inhaled sharply as he swung his arm over her shoulders.

“Al, what—"

“Hush now, cher.”

Her stomach dropped and her face began to feel a bit warm. He was using that damn voice again.

“What’s the matter? You didn’t seem to mind this with Angel, darling.”

Was he teasing her?

“Yeah, but he’s _Angel_ and you’re… _you,_ ” she sputtered.

"That I am. Is that a problem, my dear?” He gave her an impish grin.

Oh, he was _totally_ teasing her.

_Bastard._

“Alright, ya can un-pause it. I—" Angel swung open the door and stopped in his tracks. “Uh, what’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing at all! We were just discussing this wonderful film. Please, come, sit,” Alastor said. 

“…right.” He gave them a saucy smile as he sat back down. “Gettin’ comfy there, Lee?”

“Not. Another. Word,” she said through gritted teeth.

 _Great, now they’re_ both _in on it._

She kept her eyes fixed on the screen as the suggestive scene played out before them. If she hadn’t been blushing before, she certainly was now. Her focus broke when she registered the strangely pleasant feeling of Alastor tracing lazy patterns on her upper arm.

“Oh, um,” She leaned forwards out of his grasp, slightly panicked, and grabbed the bottle of liquor from the table. “I almost forgot we have to take a shot! The necklace is in this scene! Drink up, Angel!”

Angel laughed at her but accepted her offer of a drink. She couldn’t even look at Alastor right now.

“Bottom’s up, toots.” He winked as they clinked their glasses together.

She choked down the liquor as fast as she could, coughing lightly as the fiery warmth spread in her chest, and set the glass down again. However, this time when she leaned back to sit, she squeaked as Alastor’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer. She looked up to see him smiling almost innocently. She _knew_ he was just trying to get a rise out of her, that he wasn’t being serious, but she couldn’t help the fluttering nervousness in her stomach. Angel didn’t appear to have noticed their change in position.

She exhaled shakily and turned her attention back to the screen, watching as a (quite fun) chase scene through the bowels of the ship ensued. Jack and Rose’s antics helped her take her mind off of her own predicament a bit.

That is, until they snuck into the cargo hold and started horsing around on some fancy old car. Her eyes widened as Rose pulled Jack through the open window into the back.

_Were they going to…?_

“Put your hands on me, Jack,” Rose said.

 _Oh no, they were_ definitely _going to!_

Angel was practically drooling as he watched them make out on screen, transfixed and no doubt thinking of himself in Rose’s shoes. Blood rushed to Lee’s face as Alastor’s fingers begin to move again, this time up and down her side. The metal nails on his gloved fingers barely nicked through the fabric of her shirt as he brushed a ticklish spot just under her ribs, and she squirmed involuntarily. A different warmth was spreading through her as her skin grew too tight, too hot.

He continued his idle movements, not bothering to look at her as the movie played on, though his sly smile indicated he knew how flustered he was making her. She jumped a little when Rose’s palm hit the foggy car window; the action wasn’t exactly subtle.

“Enjoying the show, sweetheart?” he murmured, lips barely brushing against the shell of her ear.

A jolt of heat ran all the way down to her toes. He sounded absolutely _sinful._ Her mind was racing as he continued to trace little circles on her ribcage, no doubt aware that her heart was hammering away in her chest. She knew she should ask him to stop, only to realize in horror that part of her didn’t _want_ him to stop.

 _What the fuck. What the_ _fuck?!?_

Finally, it seemed he’d decided she’d had enough and he withdrew, folding his hands neatly in his lap once more, leaving her a beet-red, shaky wreck.

She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, trying calm down as she wracked her brain for a logical reason behind his actions. Maybe he’d simply tired of being nice, and this was the first opportunity he’d had to really mess with her. Lord knows he was always going on about craving new entertainment. Then again, this didn’t feel like his typical antics, which always had a mischievous humor about them. No, this had felt strangely serious, though that could just be her drunken and slightly touch-starved mind talking.

 _Don’t be ridiculous,_ she thought. _He’s just messing with me._

Speaking of wrecks, the rest of the movie passed uneventfully as they watched the Titanic and its passengers meet their inevitable fate. Alastor seemed delighted by the destruction and hopelessness of the situation, while Angel became teary again as Jack said his final words to Rose, succumbing to the cold and bringing their tragic love affair to a swift end.

As the credits rolled and that one Celine Dion song she couldn’t stand started to play, Angel made a big show of getting up from the couch.

“Well, that was nice.” He grabbed the half-empty bottle of liquor and took a swig. “But unless ya wanna make this a threesome, I’m leavin’. Have fun!” Lee sputtered half-formed protests as he left. It seemed he’d noticed more than she thought. She tried to follow him only to be yanked down onto the couch again, her head spinning a bit from the alcohol and swift change in direction.

“What the hell, Al?!”

“Our resident dew-dropper implied that something risqué would be happening between us,” he grinned. “Wouldn’t it be fun to make him wonder?”

“Fun for _you_ maybe, given how much you seem to love getting under my skin,” she huffed. “The last thing I need is Angel running his big fucking mouth to everyone else about something that is _definitely not_ happening!”

She got up again only to feel his hand on her wrist, pulling her back down once more.

“Stop that, you pinstriped bastard!”

“Language, dear! And what’s the matter? You usually love my company!”

“That’s a damn lie and you know it. What’s gotten into you, anyway?”

He smiled innocently. “I haven’t the _foggiest_ idea of what you’re talking about.”

She sighed, exasperated. “Whatever. I don’t have time for this.”

This time when she got up, he made no move to stop her. She was too drunk to put up with him right now and stumbled a little as the room swayed around her.

“Would you like me to escort you?” he asked, voice tinged with amusement.

“I’d rather get hit by a car, _again_ ,” she grumbled.

“Be careful what you wish for, darling.”

She glanced over her shoulder as she opened the door, determined to have the last word. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

She didn’t stick around long enough to hear his response. As she made her way up the stairs, she chastised herself internally for having shown such weakness. He had been acting almost normal lately, had gotten her a touching gift, and was even sharing details of his past life with her, so she had foolishly let her guard down. Now she had paid the price. She vowed to remain more in control of herself around him in the future.

 _Give him an inch, he’ll take a mile,_ she thought grimly as she locked her bedroom door behind her. At least now she knew to expect him to go back to his old ways. And while his behavior tonight had certainly been unusual (and not entirely unpleasant, though she’d never admit it), she just chalked it up to a combination of opportunism and being inspired by Angel ribbing her about her reaction to the movie’s more explicit scenes.

It was almost certainly a fluke, and she’d never have to deal with it again.

She hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehehe...
> 
> This is probably the closest this story is gonna come to a pure crack-fic, but I had this idea and couldn't get it out of my head. Plus, it acts as a great bridge to what comes next. ;)
> 
> The third and final part of our Holiday Spectacular drops tomorrow, folks. It was a super fun chapter to write, and I think you'll all enjoy it. Honestly, the next 3-4 chapters are some of the best stuff I think I've ever written, and I'm super excited to share them with you all. 
> 
> Stay tuned...


	23. It's A Dangerous Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frustrated and confused, Lee decides to give Alastor a taste of his own medicine. 
> 
> Things don't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Flirtation as a form of psychological warfare" is in the tags for a reason, folks. ;)

Her first mistake had been telling Angel of all people about her predicament.

They had been spending her day off hanging out in his room (literally hanging in his case, as he was lazily suspended upside-down from his pole, tapping away on his phone), when he had confronted her about the evening before.

“So, you an’ Smiles, huh?” he drawled.

“What are you talking about?”

He grinned. “You fuckin’ him?”

 _“WHAT?!_ NO! Nonononono no!”

 _Does he_ really _think that me and Al… oh no!_

“I’m just pullin’ ya leg, toots,” he laughed. “But seriously, I ain’t blind. What’s goin’ on with you an’ him?”

“Alastor and I are…” she trailed off, fidgeting with his bedspread and trying to shake off her residual embarrassment. Friends was definitely too strong of a word, and she wasn’t sure Alastor had any concept of what that entailed anyway, but they were far from strangers. “…associates. That’s all.”

“Oh, you two were _associatin’_ last night, that’s for sure.” He disentangled himself from the pole, his smile now right-side-up. “You were lettin’ him feel you up and everything!”

“It’s not like that!” Her face burned as she looked away.

“Are ya sure? Cuz I got a feelin’ you didn’t jus’ come in here ta play with Nuggs.” He plopped down on the bed next to her. “Spill it, toots.”

She sighed. “Ok, I don’t have an explanation for last night. But what I do know is that over the past month he’s gone from trying to drive me up a wall to…”

_…to acting like he wants to pin me up against one._

“…to being really flirty,” she said. “And it’s been fucking confusing to deal with.”

“Hey, you don’t gotta justify yourself ta me. The guy’s kinda hot, and he’s got freaky shadow tentacle shit goin’ on! I’d let him—"

“ANGEL! I don’t wanna know!” she cut him off, immediately regretting bringing it up.

“What I’m tryin’ to say is I get why yer feelin’ all mixed up right now,” he continued. “But I’ve known Smiles longer than you have, and far as I know he doesn’t swing your way, my way, _any_ way. He wants somethin’ outta you, that’s for sure, but it ain’t nookie.”

It was an uncannily accurate observation. If he’d gathered that much, maybe he could actually help her out.

“If I tell you,” she said, “this stays between us, alright?”

“I’m a made man, toots. I’m no stranger to _omertà_.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “My lips are sealed.”

“He wants me to make a deal.” What exactly the deal entailed, she decided to keep to herself for now. “And I said no, obviously. But apparently he doesn’t like that answer.”

“Is he threatening you?” Angel’s eyes narrowed. “Hurting you?”

“No, no! Nothing like that! He’s just been an annoying little shit is all. First it was playing pranks, screwing up my work, stuff like that. Now he’s figured out I don’t do well with… _other_ forms of attention, and I guess he’s trying that instead.”

“So, he’s flirtin’ with ya cuz he knows it bothers ya?”

She shrugged. “As far as I can tell.”

He laughed, much to her surprise. “Well why didn’t ya say so? That’s an easy fix!”

“Really? Do tell, genius,” she deadpanned.

“Smiles likes throwin’ people off balance and then actin’ all innocent. One time he asked me to read for a ‘steamy radio drama’ he was working on, and he blue-balled me the whole time! In a _porno!_ He said he didn’t know what I was on about but the look he gave me said otherwise,” he said, sounding irate at being duped himself. “So, what _you_ gotta do is give him a taste of his own medicine.”

“And how exactly do I do that?”

“Easy. Whatever he hits you with, do it twice as hard back. Turn on the charm, if you know what I mean.” He winked and struck a suggestive pose.

“You want me to _flirt_ with _Alastor?!?”_

“Hey, don’t get ya panties in a twist!” He put his hands up defensively. “The first time we met I offered ta suck his dick, and he actually shut his trap for once. For a smug bastard that loves the sound’a his own voice, that’s a big deal.”

She frowned. It was an _incredibly_ stupid idea. But she was at her wits end and out of options, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to see that pinstriped motherfucker squirm.

“You said he’s only doin’ it cuz he knows it gets to ya,” Angel continued. “Pretend ya like it, and he’ll move on.”

“…and you’re sure he won’t take it seriously?”

“The guy doesn’t have a horny bone in his body, toots. You’ll be in the clear.”

She paused. Alastor _had_ balked at Angel’s advances last night, after all. Maybe his plan wasn’t as crazy as she thought.

“ _Fine._ But I want you there as backup, in case things go south.”

“Are you kiddin’? I wouldn’t miss this shit for the world!”

Her second mistake was thinking it would be that easy.

True to his word, Angel stuck to her like glue for the rest of the day. With his encouragement, she mustered up the courage to give Alastor a few compliments on his new bowtie and the dinner he made them, but the deer demon accepted them with grace. She had been hoping that would be enough to rattle him, but unfortunately it looked like she would have to take a more direct approach.

She got her chance the next day when she was deep-cleaning the hotel’s long-abandoned ballroom. Charlie and Vaggie had decided to throw a big New Year’s party to attract more sponsors for the hotel so they wouldn’t be dependent on Charlie’s savings and Alastor’s financial support, and Niffty declared that the whole place had to be spick and span. Unfortunately, that meant Lee would have to spend New Year’s Eve cooped up in her room, away from their demonic guests, but she didn’t want to interfere with their plans. Charlie and Vaggie had been spending more time together, going over spreadsheets and financial documents with lines of worry on their face, and she’d put two-and-two together. They needed a new cash infusion, and with Alastor being as unpredictable as he was, relying solely on his patronage was suicidal.

The familiar feeling of being watched made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as she mopped the wooden floor. It was clear she was no longer alone, and it was time to act.

She wasn’t good at flirting, but Angel had given her some tips as to how to steer the conversation in lewd directions; the more depraved, the better. It had mortified her at first, and some of what he suggested made her feel sick (for reasons she wouldn’t dwell on), but it was now or never.

“What do you want, Al?” She didn’t bother to look up.

“Just stopping by to inspect your work, dear!” he said. “I want to make sure things are in tip-top shape, especially our dance floor! I’m eager to cut a rug at our little shindig!”

“You didn’t strike me as a dancer.” She turned, raising an eyebrow.

“Why, I’m a regular Oliver Twist!” He played a snippet of a jazzy tune and did a little jig, the clacking of his shoes echoing about the cavernous room. She did her best to hold in a laugh.

“Is it up to your exacting standards, Mr. Twist?” 

“Hmm…” He wandered about the ballroom, occasionally bending at the waist to inspect the floor. “It’s getting there. There’s a few scuff marks that will need a thorough scrubbing to remove, though, and I insist you take care of them post haste!”

_Now’s my chance!_

“If you want me to get on my hands and knees that badly, you gotta buy me dinner first,” she teased. “But I suppose I could always make an exception.” She put on her best seductive tone and winked, throwing the words he’d used on Christmas morning right back at him. The over-the-top display hid her own discomfort and helped keep memories she’d rather forget from breaking her composure.

There was a sharp squeal of radio interference, as if several distorted voices were babbling over each other. He stared at her as if she had three heads, eyes wide as he stood ramrod straight, a dark blush coloring his cheeks. His grin was tight, and the sight reminded her of an animal baring its teeth defensively.

“Excuse me?!” he sputtered, indignant. “I am a _gentleman_ , thank you.”

“So, dinner first, then? Works for me.” She shrugged and turned away, trying to hide the triumphant grin spreading across her face as she continued mopping. She couldn’t believe than Angel’s idea had actually worked, and that she’d actually had the balls to do it!

A glance behind her confirmed the red interloper had fled. Chores forgotten, she rushed off to find Angel, eager to tell him the good news.

“Oh my God, Angel!” she said, plopping down next to him on the couch in the lobby. “You’re not gonna believe this!”

“What happened?” He tucked his phone away in his pocket, sitting up.

“So, I took your advice. And it actually worked!”

“No fuckin’ way! I didn’t think ya’d actually go through with it on ya own!” he said, absolutely delighted. “What’d ya do?”

“Well I, uh,” she glanced around and lowered her voice conspiratorially, “sorta implied I’d… y’know.” She made an obscene gesture that got the point across. “And he freaked out! God, I wish you could’ve seen his face.”

“Way ta go, sugar tits!” He gave her a hi-five. “Good on ya for standin’ yer ground, but next time I wanna be there, ‘kay?”

“Next time? I thought just once was enough!”

“No way, baby. Now’s the time ta turn up the heat,” he grinned. “Make him pay for what he’s been doin’.”

“And entertain you in the process.”

“Damn right!”

With Angel’s encouragement, she kept up the charade for the next three days: leaning into him when he threw his arms around her in the midst of a dramatic tale, scootching her chair closer to him at dinner, making suggestive comments when they were alone, even laughing flirtatiously at his terrible jokes. Her acting was slowly but steadily improving: each time he’d given her a bit of a puzzled look and moved on, or turned away, or otherwise distanced himself from her, clearly uncomfortable. She was ecstatic, and when Angel asked to celebrate her string of successes at the bar, she eagerly agreed.

“To acting slutty!” Angel cried, already five drinks in and well on the way to being absolutely shitfaced. He clinked his martini glass with hers.

“Hell yeah!” She chugged the remainder of her third drink, slamming the empty glass down on the bar. “Though I don’t think I’m on your level yet, Angel.”

“’Course not. You gotta long way ta go, toots. But yer on ya way!”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Husk eyed them with suspicion as he refilled her drink.

“Nothin’ that matters anymore, old man,” she said with a giggle, more than a bit tipsy. She normally tried to stay within Vaggie’s two-drink limit, but she’d been working her ass off lately to get things ready for their big New Year’s Eve party tomorrow night, and decided she deserved to let loose for once.

“Just little Miss Wallflower takin’ care of some business.” Angel clapped her on the back. “And doin’ a damn good job, too.”

“Jeezus, what the fuck did ya get ‘er mixed up in this time?” Husk asked.

“More like he got me un-mixed,” she grinned.

_Is un-mixed a word? I dunno, probably._

“Nah, give ya’self some credit, toots. You sorted it out on ya own.”

“I’m a fuckin’ problem-solver, Husk. I’ma badassssh” Her words came out slightly slurred, and she frowned. She must be drunker than she thought.

“Hey, hey, babe,” Angel elbowed her in the side, glancing over his shoulder. “Here comes yer problem.”

“Husker, my good friend! Bourbon, neat!” Alastor strolled up to the bar, giving them a sidelong glance. “Evening, Angel. Lee.”

Something fluttered in her stomach. She assumed it was just nausea.

“Wanna party with us, Smiles?” Angel grinned. “I can show ya a _really_ good time…”

His smile grew strained. “No, just a quick nightcap for me, thank you.”

Lee glanced up at him as he sipped his drink, leaning against the bar a bit too stiffly to seem truly relaxed. A part of her felt kind of bad about all the shit she’d been giving him lately, but she figured this was just a case where she’d had to fight fire with fire.

“Pssst!” Angel whispered in her ear. “Aren’t ya gonna say somethin’?”

“No, why?” she whispered back.

“’Cuz its fun! C’mon, one more time, for me?”

The more rational part of her brain insisted this was a bad idea. She’d already gotten him to back off his advances, and there wasn’t any point in stirring the pot any further. Unfortunately, her common sense was drowned out by a drunken impulse for revenge, and a strange desire to make him turn as red as his hair.

 _Oh, it’ll be fine,_ she thought. After all, he was always entertained at the expense of others. What’s the harm in her doing the same?

“Is that a new suit, Al?” she asked.

Husk frowned. “Kid, what’re you—" He was cut off by Angel clapping a gloved hand over his mouth.

“Why yes, it is,” he replied, not bothering to look at her.

“You look good with it on,” she grinned, “but I think you’d look better with it _off.”_

Okay, not her best work, but given that the glass he was holding cracked under his tightening fingers, it seemed to have the desired effect. His neck snapped sickeningly as he turned to look at her, and her face fell. His smile was plastered on as usual, but his eyes were wide and almost feral.

There was a tense silence as he downed the rest of his drink, eyes never leaving her. The shadows in the lobby seemed to lengthen and twist, and she felt her hair stand on end. It was like he was looking right through her, into the darkest corners of her mind.

“Uh-oh,” Angel muttered.

“Uh, Al?” Husk asked, looking between the two of them nervously.

Her third mistake was thinking that he wouldn’t retaliate.

Slowly, he set the cracked glass back on the bar. Lee did her best to brace herself for whatever was to come, now feeling fully sober.

But instead of shredding her into ribbons, or using his weird magic, or doing some other heinously violent thing, his face started to relax. His eyelids lowered, and his strained smile gave way to a mischievous grin.

“In that case,” he drawled, “are you just going to continue to undress me with your eyes? Or are you brave enough to do it with your _hands?”_ He winked.

_…what?_

She sat there, stunned, feeling her cheeks color slightly. Whatever she’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t _that._

“Oh fuck,” Angel said.

It was clear she had not only been found out but _challenged_. She gaped like a fish as she tried to come up with some sort of retort.

He laughed. “Just as I thought, you’re all hat and no cattle!” He waved his hands and a few bills materialized on the bar. “Keep the change, Husker!” he said as he sauntered off, playing a victorious tune.

Angel shook her by the shoulders. “What’re you doin’? You gonna take that lyin’ down?” he hissed at her.

“I—"

 _“No,”_ Husk cut in. “You’re not gonna say jack shit. Let it go, kid. Trust me.”

She bristled. Let it go? She’d been “letting it go” with this asshole for three months! No, she didn’t want to back down this time, embarrassment be damned. She was angry, and she wanted to _win._

“What can I say?” she called after him. “I love watching you walk away.”

_Challenge accepted, motherfucker._

“Is that so?” He turned on his heel, a ferocious grin on his face. She slipped off of the barstool and took a few tipsy steps forward.

“Yeah.” She grit her teeth, determined to stand her ground.

“Why, you’ve certainly got some moxie, haven’t you? But while these past few days have been quite entertaining, I think it best you end this charade now, lest you find yourself in over your head.” The threat in his voice was clear.

“Oh, I’m not worried about that.” She examined her nails, feigning dismissiveness. “You’re a coward, anyway.”

There was a hiss of static followed by the sound of a record scratch.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re all talk,” she continued, looking him square in the eyes. “You’re just trying to get under my skin. Angel told me as much. At the end of the day, you’re all bark and no bite.”

“Hey, don’t bring _me_ into this!” Angel protested from behind her.

His smile grew thin. “You’re playing a dangerous game. Are you sure you don’t want to stop?”

She balled up her fists at her sides. _“Make me, asshole.”_

The lobby was so quiet you could’ve heard a pin drop.

“Al, you know she’s just pulling yer leg.”

“Quiet, Husker.” His words were short, clipped.

He took a step closer and she felt the first tingle of anxiety crackle to life. Then another. Her resolve started to waver as his shadow self curled around him, licking its lips and fixing her with a monstrous grin. She was like a caged animal trapped in close quarters with some ferocious predator, about to be eaten alive.

They held each other’s gaze.

“Such brave words from such a shy little thing.”

And she knew she had fucked up. This wasn’t the voice of Alastor the Radio Demon, the one he broadcast to listeners across the city, the one he used with everyone else. No, this was _Alastor’s_ voice: low and smooth, the one that made her stupid stomach do flips, the one she’d only ever heard when they were alone together.

There was a rush of movement and he was right in front of her, grabbing her roughly by the jaw.

“And such a _filthy_ mouth.” He brushed his gloved thumb over her bottom lip. “Somebody should teach you some manners, cher.”

_Holy shit._

“Um—"

“No no no shh, shh, shh,” he hushed her, tucking a few stray hairs behind her ear. “It’s too late for that now, sweetheart.”

His hands moved to grip her shoulders and every nerve in her body ignited in a heady mixture of fear, dread, and some other emotion she couldn’t name. The whole world seemed to fall away.

He grinned wickedly. “It appears you’ve forgotten exactly who you’re dealing with, girl.”

Her breathing was shallow as he leaned in, his hair tickling her cheek.

_“Would you like me to take you upstairs and remind you?”_

Her stomach twisted inside-out as her skin grew hot. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest like a war drum, her blood buzzing in her veins.

His voice was low and almost purring against her ear. “Because I assure you, _ma petite chou_ , I would absolutely _ruin_ you.”

She gasped as he nipped at her earlobe, not hard enough to break the skin but tugging with enough conviction to make her shiver.

“How’s that for no bite, dearest?”

Her hands shook as he pulled away, sporting a roguish grin. Beet red, she tried to look at Angel, hoping for some sort of backup, but he caught her chin once more and turned her back towards him.

“W-wow, Alastor, I bet Angel _loves_ hearing you talk like this.” she wavered, trying desperately to find some sort of out.

“You’re trembling.” There was a teasing lit to his voice. “I think you love it too.”

She sighed in relief as he shot a glance back towards the bar, freeing her from his smoldering gaze. “You make a good point, though. The harlot is probably enjoying this.”

She felt a flicker of hope. Did that mean he was going to back off?

“In that case…” he continued, fingers running down the sides of her arms.

Her eyes widened as he started speaking in something that reminded her of French, but with a bit of an extra drawl. A tingling sensation radiated from the base of her skull. The room seemed to grow warmer as he circled her like a shark. He traced a line across her collarbone, and she felt weak in the knees, her mind an incoherent mess as a small, pleasant flame bloomed in her belly. Sure, she couldn’t understand him, but from the way he dipped his head low to murmur velvety words in her ear, breath fanning across her neck, she assumed it was absolutely _obscene._

Goosebumps prickled her skin as he dragged a finger down the length of her spine, scraping with enough force to send delicious tremors all the way to her toes. She heard Husk spit out his drink at one phrase in particular, and he chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made her heart skip a beat. A startled cry escaped her as he grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her to face him once more.

“You know where my quarters are, darling.” He looked down at her through hooded eyes. “Come find me if you dare.”

And he was gone, dissolved into shadow.

She stood there, dumbfounded.

Then she heard laughter.

The world came back into focus. Husk looked like he had seen a ghost, and Angel was doubled over, pounding his fists against the bar and cackling hysterically.

 _“Holy shit!”_ He clasped his other pair of arms over his stomach, giggling as she walked stiffly back towards them. “You’re a fuckin’ tomato! I didn’t think Smiles had it in ‘im!”

“Remind me to never take your advice again,” she said, frowning at the tremor in her voice as she settled back into her seat. “Husk, please for the love of God give me something strong, NOW.”

She tried to steady herself as he poured one shot glass full of dark liquor, then another. Her pulse was racing, and she gripped the bar to try to stop her hands from trembling.

 _What the hell was_ that?

He slid one glass over to her and downed the other. “Be glad you don’t speak French, kid.”

She gulped it down, the burn helping to center her as she tried to make sense of what just happened.

“I think I caught the word for ‘death,’ so I’m just going to assume he was lovingly detailing his plans to murder me,” she said. Yes, that was a much easier concept for her brain to process, especially coming from Alastor.

“Trust me,” Husk deadpanned, _“you don’t wanna know.”_

Angel snickered.

“What?” She looked over at him as he wiped a tear from his eye.

“I’m no Frenchie,” he said, “but I caught that much. ‘Le petit mort.’ It means ‘the little death.’”

“So, he’s only gonna kill me a little?” She wasn’t sure if that was possible but wouldn’t put anything past him.

“Nah, toots.” He gave her a shit-eating grin. “It means he’s gonna make you c—"

 _“OKAY!”_ She clapped her hands over her ears, now 100% done with this conversation. “I’m leaving now! Goodnight!”

Angel’s laughter followed her as she ascended the stairs on shaky legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Al's "steamy radio drama": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqh_3OSAhi0
> 
> Yeah I... I don't know either, man. This sorta just happened lol. But I managed to work this scene in without completely derailing my plot, as you'll soon see. I've never written a scene like this before so sorry if it sucked, but dammit I tried! 
> 
> This concludes our Holiday Spectacular! What fate will befall our poor heroine now? What fallout will come from this particular encounter? You'll have to wait until Tuesday to see! Also, mark your calendars, as a very special chapter is dropping on New Years Eve to end the year with a bang!
> 
> See you soon <3


	24. We Need To Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other shoe drops.
> 
> Or, a reminder that Alastor is in Hell for a reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: "When will you learn... that your acTIONS HAVE _CONSEQUENCES?!?!?!"_
> 
> No specific content warnings for this one folks, but do mind the tags and proceed with caution, especially if you have a history of self-harming behaviors. Things get a little dicey.
> 
> Also, gold star to the first person to find my favorite line(s). :D

When her alarm jolted her from a dreamless sleep the next morning, she ignored it. When Niffty came knocking at her door, urging her to get out of bed, she said she was sick. That wasn’t entirely untrue: she’d woken up with a bit of a hangover, and her head throbbed. But by far the worst residue from last night’s events was the humiliation that made her cringe and writhe, burying her head in the pillows and hiding from the world in shame.

It was nearly noon when another knock spurred her from her doze.

“Niffty, I’m still not feelin’ well.” She put on her best “sick voice,” the same one she used when she called off of work.

“Open the door or I’m breakin’ it down, kid.”

“Husk?”

“We need to talk.”

She rolled out of bed with a groan, padding over to the door and wincing as the light from the hallway flooded her darkened room. Husk pushed past her briskly, a gesture that reminded her far too much of the man she was desperately trying to keep out of her thoughts.

“You gonna tell me what the fuck happened last night?” He didn’t mince words, crossing his arms and giving her a stern look that seemed almost paternal.

“I was dumb enough to take Angel’s advice, that’s what happened,” she grumbled, plopping back down on her bed. She could only imagine how much of a mess she looked: hair tangled, still in her pajamas, skin sallow and eyes sunken. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Too bad.”

“Just leave me alone, Husk.” If she had it her way, she would be spending the rest of the day in her room, and possibly tomorrow too. “If you came in here to scold me, I don’t need it.”

“Do you have any fuckin’ idea how stupid that was?!” he continued, undeterred. “Do ya?! You called him a coward! You made Alastor look like a fool—"

“Are you kidding me?!” she sputtered, “If anything I’m the one who embarrassed herself!”

“God damn it, I’m tryin’ to help you!” He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I don’t give a fuck that you’re self-conscious, and I don’t care about yer shitty flirting. You managed to piss off the fuckin’ Radio Demon, and he’s been paintin’ the town red ever since!”

“He what?” Her heart sank like a stone. She pulled up the news on her phone. Sure enough, staticky pictures accompanied headlines like “END-OF-YEAR MASSACRE SWEEPS THE SOUTH SIDE,” and warnings to stay away from downtown flooded social media.

“And guess who’s gotta deal with his bullshit?! _Me!”_

“Oh no…” she said, wracked with guilt. With how civilized Alastor pretended to be around the hotel, she had forgotten how truly merciless he was. And now innocent bystanders had paid the price for her choosing to needle him.

“If it weren’t for Charlie, it woulda been you, kid. Still could be, depending on what kind of mood he’s in when he gets back.”

Panic gripped her, eyes pricking with tears as her breathing sped up. She’d read the survivor’s testimonials, seen the aftermath of his wrath in pictures, in grainy videos. Now he was going to hurt her, he was going to _kill_ her, he was—

“Snap out of it!” Husk barked, shaking her by the shoulders. “If you wanna get out of this, you need to listen to me.”

She did her best to blink away her tears, trying to keep it together.

“Alastor’s got an ego the size of Manhattan, and you bruised it when ya made him lose his cool last night. If you thought he was bad before, just wait. He’s gonna make yer life a living hell, if he decides to keep ya alive at all.”

Icy tendrils of dread snaked up her spine. “What do I do?”

“You’re gonna march over to his office as soon as he gets back, and you’re gonna make him believe you’re sorry. I don’t care if you gotta beg on your hands an’ knees in front of the entire hotel.”

“Apologize? That’s it?”

“He’s not gonna make it that easy. You rattled him, kid. And ya kept at it even after he gave you an out,” he continued, “If you wanna keep yer head on your shoulders, you’re gonna do whatever it takes to calm him down.”

She froze. _Whatever_ it takes?

He seemed to notice her distress. “Not like that! Get yer mind outta the gutter!”

“Well excuse me for assuming the worst! Did you not hear what he said to me?!” she bristled, “What he said he’d _do_ to me?”

“Far as I know he doesn’t like that kinda stuff. Wouldn’t force ya even if he did. Goes against his fucked-up ‘code.’” Husk replied, twitching his claws in the air for emphasis.

She looked at him incredulously. 

“He doesn’t tolerate men who beat their girls,” he elaborated. “Won’t hurt kids, not that there’s many down here. And wouldn’t ever hurt anyone like _that.”_

“But murder is just fine and dandy,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Another possibility reared its ugly head.

“What about a deal? What if he tries to force me into one?”

He shook his head. “Not how he operates. The fucker likes it when people come to him, he gets off on the power. He’ll try to push you in that direction but won’t force ya outright.”

“So, what should I say?”

“Fuck if I know! This is your mess, kid,” he threw his hands up in frustration, “I’m not gonna hold yer hand through this. Just wanted to give you a heads-up.” He turned to leave. “I’ll text ya when he gets back. Then yer on your own.”

She jumped slightly as he slammed the door shut, then collapsed back onto her bed, sick with worry.

* * *

She emerged from her room a few hours later, her headache having subsided a bit, to see the hotel’s interior had been transformed yet again. The lobby was strung up with white and gold decorations, and party hats and noisemakers littered the tables. In one corner a karaoke machine had been set up, complete with microphones and a jukebox. She made a halfhearted excuse to Niffty about feeling a bit better, and after a bit of prodding from the demoness about whether she thought she was contagious, she was ordered to put the finishing touches on the ballroom.

To her surprise, most of the work was already done, with long banquet tables laden with hors d’oeuvres and snacks lining one side of the room next to a few smaller tables for guests who wanted to sit and chat. A stage had been constructed for the band, and racks of champagne glasses sat in the corner, waiting to be polished and arranged into elaborate towers. Vaggie wasn’t keen on having any alcohol at all, but she knew that having a totally dry party wouldn’t draw any crowds. Angel and Husk, in contrast, had pushed for a fully stocked bar with plenty of top-shelf liquor, arguing they’d make good money off of it, never mind that it would allow the two men to get absolutely plastered. As a compromise, Charlie had decided on serving wine and the traditional bubbly, which sat chilling in large buckets of ice.

Armed with a rag and some hot water, she set about cleaning the champagne glasses, being careful to only grab them by the stem, trying to avoid a scolding from Niffty for leaving fingerprints. It was relatively mindless work, and it gave her time to think about what she was going to say to a certain Radio Demon.

 _Alastor, I’m so sorry. I know I crossed a line and I’ve come to ask for forgiveness, you lousy mother—oh God dammit_ , she thought. Her own anger at being strung along and humiliated kept bubbling up, try as she might to suppress it.

It should’ve been easy. She’d faked apologies to irate customers before and acted the part of the groveling employee enough times that she should know it by heart. But she was stubborn, and she held a simmering loathing for him, not only because he embarrassed her in front of Angel and Husk, but because he made her feel all mixed-up inside in the process. Still, she knew she’d have to play her cards right to have a shot of getting through to him, lest he go on another rampage.

Her phone buzzed.

“He’s in his office. Go,” read Husk’s hastily typed message. She felt a flash of panic. It was too soon. She needed to think, to plan.

Another buzz.

“NOW.”

She was out of time.

Making an excuse about having to use the restroom, she managed to slip out from under Niffty’s tyrannical thumb for a bit. Feet shuffling beneath her, she felt like a death row prisoner being led to the gallows as she walked towards the office. All too soon, she was at his door, which looked far more imposing than she’d remembered. She hesitated. Should she walk away? Pretend nothing happened the next time she saw him?

“Come in!” she heard him call. She hadn’t even knocked.

The door swung open for her. He had his feet on his desk (were those hoofprints on the bottom of his shoes?), leaning back as he read the paper. “RADIO DEMON STRIKES AGAIN” was emblazoned on the front page, accompanied by a glitchy image of a towering semi-humanoid beast. She shuddered at the unwelcome reminder of his true nature. He glanced over the top of the page, and his eyes, ringed with dark circles, narrowed. He looked as though he hadn’t slept well, and his skin had a bit of a pallor.

“Um, hi.” She took a few tentative steps inside. “Is this a good time?”

He was on his feet in a flash, the newspaper sent into the void with a mere flick of his wrist. The door behind her swung shut with enough force to make her jump.

“My, my,” he drawled, eyes hooded, “and here I thought you wouldn’t have the courage to show. Have you come to let me have my wicked way with you?”

_Oh, not this bullshit again._

“Cut the crap, Alastor,” she said, all thoughts of being tactful now well and truly out the window. “Look, I’m sorry I insulted you, and I’m sorry for coming on to you so hard! I just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine.”

He tilted his head to the side. “How so?”

“I know you’ve been flirting to try to get me to make a deal with you, and I don’t like being led on and toyed with. Angel said if I pretended to like it and flirted back, you’d hate it and you’d stop. I didn’t mean anything by it.” She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “I also, uh… didn’t expect you to be good at it.” _That’s right, stroke his ego._

He puffed out his chest slightly. “I told you, darling, I pride myself on being the best, even though I usually find the implications of such things distasteful. Besides, flirtation is an excellent tool to have in one’s arsenal. Wonderful for business deals.” His smile turned sinister. “Wonderful for hunting, too.”

“Ok there, Ted Bundy.”

“Should I know who that is?”

“Never mind,” she muttered. “I really am sorry, though. I was angry and drunk and impulsive and _stupid_.”

“Indeed.”

“Husk told me what you’ve been up to. I don’t think you can kill me because of Charlie, but I don’t want you to hurt anyone else because of something I did, even strangers.”

His brows furrowed. “My dear, what makes you think I would _want_ to kill you?”

"Husk said you were angry…” she trailed off.

“Angry? Yes, albeit less so now that I’ve had a chance to… feed my appetites,” he grinned wickedly, his microphone materializing in his hand. “But that doesn’t mean you would be the target of my frustrations.”

Now it was her turn to be confused. “Why?”

“Ever since you fell, you’ve been quite the intriguing little puzzle,” he said, circling her. “While most treat me with fear and disdain, you saw me as a mere annoyance. You knew my power, you knew my reputation, but you still spoke to me as though I were your equal. Laughable, really!” he chuckled. “And not only did you not fall victim to my charms, you were bold enough to challenge me with your own advances, as duplicitous as they may be.” He swung his microphone towards her fast enough to make her flinch, tilting her head upward. “To see a bluenose like you try to act the part of a Sheba was certainly amusing!”

She wasn’t sure what he meant but got the feeling she should be insulted.

“You are correct that the princess has forbidden me from harming you. But even if I wasn’t so behind the eight-ball, I have no intentions of snuffing you out.” A shiver of fear ran through her as he leaned in. “Let’s not forget that I still have several associates who would love to have a taste of you, myself included.”

She swallowed hard and he laughed, low and soft by her ear. “No, I have every intention of keeping you, my darling. I find you quite entertaining, and I’m never one to cut the fun short.” He pinched her cheek roughly in a facsimile of affection. “Even if it means I have to put up with your insolence from time to time.”

In a twisted way it made sense, at least from what little she knew of the man. “So, you’ll still help me try to find a way out of Hell?” she asked, taking a step back as she rubbed her sore jaw.

“If you’re asking if you can still use my library, then yes,” he corrected her. “Your efforts to leave Hell are yours and yours alone, though. There’s no Orpheus coming to rescue you, so you’ll have to find your way home yourself.”

“Who?”

He looked almost disappointed. “Never you mind, dear.”

She brushed it off. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

“Hah! _No._ ”

“No?!”

“I already told you, I do not forgive.”

“But you aren’t going to hurt me?” she asked, then added, “Or Angel?”

He gave her a thin smile. “I am a man of my word and bound by the princess’ orders. You and the spider are safe.” His expression darkened. “The same cannot be said, however, for the poor sinners who are set to attend tonight’s festivities.”

Her stomach dropped. Charlie and Vaggie were depending on the New Year’s Eve party being a success, and she wouldn’t put it past Alastor to turn the whole thing into a bloodbath to prove a point. No sane person would want to give money to somewhere that hosted one of the Radio Demon’s massacres, let alone check in.

Innocent people were going to get hurt, and it was _all her fault._

“Don’t worry, dear,” he said, “You’ll be tucked away in your room and won’t see a thing! I can’t promise you won’t hear their screams, though…”

“Please, don’t!” she cried. “I don’t want you to hurt anyone else!”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” he waved away her concerns. “They’ll regenerate eventually! Some of them, anyway.” His grin turned malevolent. “And given your sickening streak of compassion, this should serve as adequate punishment for you. _For now.”_

Her heart seized in her chest. The guests were due to arrive in a couple hours, and she had to warn Charlie and Vaggie. She turned to flee but didn’t make it one step before something thick and ice cold wrapped around her waist, knocking the wind out of her. She looked down in horror to see tendrils of shadow emerge from the floor, wrapping around her limbs with enough force that she feared she’d snap.

“No, no, none of that,” he scolded. “You reap what you sow, sweetheart. There’s no getting out of this.”

“HELP! _HELP ME!”_ she screamed. His shadow self leapt from him, curling around her. There was a faint hiss of laughter by her ear as its hands forced her jaw shut, squeezing her neck with enough pressure that she began to feel faint. He seemed delighted at the sight.

“No one can hear you. I’ve proofed the whole room! I do like my privacy, after all.” He stalked closer. “Now, are you going to be good for me and hide away? Or shall I leave you bound for the rest of the night?” His eyes narrowed. “I know which option I prefer.”

“Fuck... you…” she managed to squeeze out. His smile grew unnaturally wide, showing far too many teeth.

“I know!” he proclaimed cheerily. “I’ll give you a front-row seat to my show instead.”

She could only stare in horror as he snapped his fingers, blood beading on his gloves. She tried to turn away from him, but his shadow held her firm.

“Wha—”

“Hold still.” He dragged his finger across her forehead in a strange pattern. Her skin warmed unnaturally under his touch and her arms began to turn grey, her demonic disguise returning once more.

“And to ensure you keep this between us…” Her face twisted in disgust as he traced a bloody finger across her lips, muttering some sort of incantation. She tried to bite him, but her jaw was shut tight.

“Much better! Oh, this is going to be so entertaining! I suggest you wear red this evening, dear, it’ll hide the stains better.” The shadow’s hand around her neck retreated and she took a heaving breath.

“Please,” she coughed raggedly. “Please don’t, Al.”

His eyes seemed to grow darker, filled with an emotion she couldn’t place as he gave her a roguish smile. She let out a panicked cry as his shadow’s hands skimmed down her sides, coming to rest on her hips with a satisfied growl.

“You’re pretty when you beg, cher,” he murmured, his natural drawl peeking through. A metal nail ran across her jaw, pressing with enough force that she feared he’d break the skin. “But that won’t save them.”

Fear snaked down her spine. This was the _real_ Alastor, the demon who struck fear into the hearts of Hell’s most hardened sinners. The quiet moments by the fireplace, the shared laughter in the kitchen, the man who wove melodies for her in the deep dark, all of it was nothing but a ruse. She felt sick to her stomach. How could she have been so stupid, so blind?

There was a knock at the door.

He froze.

“Al? When you have a minute, can you make sure everything looks good in the ballroom?” Charlie asked.

Lee started screaming bloody murder, but Charlie didn’t appear to hear her cries. Icy shadows wrapped around her mouth once more, and the blood on her lips dried and froze as they muffled her.

“Of course! I’ll be there in a moment, I just have to finish up some paperwork.”

“Ok, well hurry. I also need the number of that singer you know. She should be here by now for sound check, and I want to see if she’s running late.”

“Be down in a jiffy!”

He relaxed as the sounds of Charlie’s footfalls faded away. The shadows binding her dematerialized with a wave of his hand and she fell to the floor with a painful _thump._

She lay there, chest heaving. A flake of dried blood landed on her tongue, and she gagged from the bitter, salty taste. An idea sparked in the back of her mind.

“Alastor,” her voice was hoarse as she got to her feet, “I want to ask a favor.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want to make a deal?”

“No, no. A favor.” She stood on quivering legs. “I don’t want you to hurt anyone tonight.”

He laughed. “Absolutely not! You made your bed, you’re going to have to lie in it.”

She looked away, anxiety blooming in her chest. She knew what she had to do but dreaded it all the same.

“I’ll give you some,” she said, a timid, wavering whisper.

He cocked his head at her. “Speak up, will you?”

“You said you wanted a taste. I’ll give you some.” She held out her arm, pointing to the now grey flesh. “And in return, no one gets hurt.”

He grinned as his eyes grew dark with hunger. Terror shot through her, and her outstretched arm began to shake. Gloved hands cradled her wrist with unexpected gentleness, his thumb rubbing small circles over the delicate skin.

“Darling,” he crooned, “you would allow me to draw blood?”

She tried to keep the tremor from her voice. “Yes.”

His smile turned savage, grip tightening.

“Oh, sweet girl. Such a bleeding-heart.” She gasped in pain as he nearly pulled her arm out of its socket, wrenching her towards his open mouth.

“No!” she cried. To her eternal relief he stopped, eyes fixed on her expectantly.

“No biting! J-just a few drops, nothing more,” she stuttered. “And everyone returns to their homes unharmed tonight.”

She swallowed hard as he considered her offer.

“Very well.” He dropped her arm with a curt nod and gestured towards the fireplace. “Have a seat.”

She shakily made her way over, never once taking her eyes off him as he went to one of his bookshelves. He plucked his silver dagger from its display stand, and she watched with morbid fascination as he twirled it in his hands. His movements were fluid as he tossed it in the air a few times, catching the handle without looking. It was almost as if it was an extension of his person.

Steeling herself, she did her best to put on a brave face, fighting the urge to shrink back into the armchair as he approached. He knelt in front of her, grinning as he took her wrist in his hand. His shadow peeled away from him, and she felt a creeping dread as it moved out of her line of sight. Cold claws carded through her hair, sending strange shivers down the nape of her neck.

“Now, then.” He dragged the tip of the knife across her arm with remarkable control; a hair more pressure and he surely would have cut her. “Are you sure you want to offer me this, sweetheart?”

She nodded as a maelstrom of emotions swirled in her stomach.

“I’m going to need you to say it. That’s how this works, cher,” he murmured, tracing figure-eights on her grey skin, blade flashing in the firelight.

She took a shuddering breath. “Yes,” she said, before adding, “Just a couple drops. And everyone is safe tonight.”

“Agreed.” His grip tightened, and she felt a shock of panic.

“Wait!”

 _“Yes?”_ He sounded almost bored.

“If you cut me, you’re not gonna like… go crazy, are you?” she asked, haunted by the memories of his darkening expression and growing antlers from her disastrous first night.

He chuckled. “Believe it or not, I am capable of self-control.” It could have been a trick of the light, but she thought she saw his eyes soften a bit. “I'll only make a small incision, nothing more. You have my word, dear.”

She could feel her pulse in her ears, crashing like a ship in a tempest-tossed sea. This was it, there was no going back.

“…Alright. Do it.”

That dark look returned as he gave her a beastly grin. “Take a deep breath.”

She hissed with pain as he dragged the knife across the skin of her inner forearm. Tiny rivulets of bright red blood began to gather against the blade, and she heard his breath catch in his throat. It wasn’t a long cut, an inch at the most, and appeared to be shallow, but it affected him all the same. The air grew heavy as the shadows in the room lengthened, curling up from the floor. His shadow self let out a pleased growl by her ear, lightly squeezing her shoulders as if in praise.

He cleared his throat. “All done. You did well,” he said, struggling to maintain his normal Trans-Atlantic affectation.

A few shadowy tendrils danced across her skin, and she shivered from the chill. One held up a small glass vial and pressed it against her cut. He tilted her arm to catch a few drops of blood, the flat end of the knife digging into her to speed up the process. The shadow’s movements were slightly frantic as they put a stopper on the tiny vial, tucking it into his pocket.

Finally, he removed the knife from her arm, but did not let go of her wrist. Her heart clenched as he dragged the blade across his tongue, eyes fluttering closed as he tasted her. It was terrible, repulsive, horrific… but she couldn’t look away. He sighed, voice thick with static, and looked at her with hooded eyes.

 _“Mô ti cheri, to as si bon goût.”_ His words were slurred, and all vestiges of his radio voice had dropped. The bags under his eyes were fading, and the small antlers on his head had tripled in size, tipped with vicious spikes. He seemed newly invigorated, and the air between them buzzed with power as some color returned to his cheeks.

 _"Merveilleux…”_ Her chest seized in fear as he dipped his head towards the cut, his grip on her wrist tightening. He was going to bite her; he was going to _eat_ her—

“Don’t!” she cried. His eyes flickered to her, dark and dangerous as he held her gaze, and she shivered. He exhaled, breath stinging her wound as he drew back.

“It’s alright, darling,” he said, shadows retreating. He waved the knife away and pulled a band-aid from thin air. “Consider your favor granted.” He carefully pressed it against the cut, covering it.

He released her and stood, watching with amusement as she clutched her arm to her chest protectively. “Run along, now. Our guests will be arriving shortly,” he said, accent returning and antlers shrinking now that he couldn’t smell her. “Don’t dawdle, lest I change my mind.”

She was off like a shot, barreling out of his office as fast as her legs could carry her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kouri-Vini Translation: "My little darling, you taste so good."
> 
> All aboard the Pain Train! Choo-choo, motherfuckers!
> 
> In all seriousness, I hope you all aren't too mad at me for this little twist, especially after last week's more risque offering. This is still a slow burn story folks, but I thought you all deserved a little treat for the holidays and for being so patient with me. My plans going forward include plenty of fluff still, and some steamier stuff, but also a good deal of angst and a bittersweet ending (as of time of writing, might change it to be happier), so get ready for a bit of a rollercoaster.
> 
> This chapter was originally going to go a totally different direction (a semi-sweet convo between Lee and Al about feelings, boundaries, etc) and be much shorter, but then the little people in my head were like "how about no" and this happened. I think it all worked out for the best though, in terms of plot, and sets up a couple more themes I wanna explore.
> 
> Please stay tuned for a very special chapter that drops on New Years Eve! I had a ton of fun writing it, and I hope you'll have fun reading it too. <3


	25. Countdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tick, tick, tick...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really proud of this one, hope y'all enjoy!

The din of laughter and conversing guests filtered up through the floor as Lee lay curled up in bed, trembling.

She could still feel the icy shadows curling around her, still see the firelight glinting off of his teeth. Alastor the man was just a distant memory, a deceptive daydream in a papier-mâché mask. Now Alastor the monster haunted her, seeping into her mind like a stain she could never wash out.

The music box on her nightstand mocked her, and she reached out of her cocoon, flinging the cursed thing out of her sight.

Despite the hell he’d put her through, she still felt as though they had shared a few moments of genuine connection, moments where he’d let his showman persona slip and given her a taste of something real. But it had all been an act, it must have been. Alastor the cook, Alastor the musician, Alastor the storyteller: they were all pretty lies he’d spun to try to hook her into one of his schemes. There was no way that man and the beast she’d encountered were one in the same; her brain simply couldn’t square that circle.

The worst thing was it had actually _worked._ Sure, she didn’t shake his hand or sign her name on the dotted line, but she’d given him a bit of what he wanted all the same. She’d even let herself get flustered by his false advances, be affected by his touch. He’d played her like a goddamn fiddle, and she hated herself for it.

She glanced at the time. 9:13 PM. Normally around this time she and her friends would be having the time of their lives, drinking like there was no tomorrow and laughing at her terrible dancing. She’d been hoping to invite them to New York for a few days so they could see the sights and hit the town on New Year’s Eve, maybe even help them find a cute stranger or two to share an innocent (or not so innocent) kiss with at midnight.

But instead they were visiting her body in the coma ward, if they’d even come to visit at all, and she would have to endure at least another 4 hours of being cooped up in her room before the hotel’s hellish guests departed.

Below her, someone was belting their heart out on the karaoke machine. They sounded horrible, and she felt a ripple of amusement. Poor Husk, forced to listen to the musical stylings of drunken demons while he manned the bar. Perhaps it was best she wasn’t down there after all.

 _Maybe I should check on him,_ she thought, pulling up her texts. It certainly couldn’t hurt, and he was probably too drunk to respond anyway.

“How’re you holding up?” she tapped out.

Her phone buzzed a minute later.

“Fine.” Attached was a picture of Husk, giving the camera the finger, while Angel, clad in his new jacket from their shopping trip, blew kisses and made a peace sign in the background.

She snorted. He looked absolutely miserable, and Angel was clearly well on his way to being blackout drunk.

Another message popped up on screen. “You ok kid?”

There was a pang of sadness as her eyes began to cloud up. Oh, if only they knew.

Unfortunately, Alastor’s magic seemed to work on the written word as well, as instead of typing “No, your boss threatened me and drank my fucking blood,” she tapped out, “Just a bit emotional.”

She shut off her phone and turned over, burying her face in the pillow. All she wanted was to be home, even if it meant spending New Years in a hospital bed.

A moment later there was a knock on her door, and she shot up in a panic. She peeled off the band-aid on her arm, fearing she’d started bleeding again and attracted unwanted attention, but found the wound had begun to close.

“It’s me, toots. Open up.”

She sighed with relief and hopped out of bed, wiping her eyes as she opened the door.

“Whoa! What’s with the get-up?” he asked, noting her devilish disguise.

“Uh…” She tried to force out what had actually happened, but to no avail. “Alastor wanted me like this just in case,” she said finally. “He said you can’t be too careful.”

“Hah! Since when does Smiles give a fuck about bein’ careful?” he scoffed, waltzing into her room. “Sounds like a load a bullshit ta me.”

She shrugged. _You’re not wrong…_

“Say, why don’t ya come down for a bit? Party with us? We’ll have a fuckin blast!” He grinned, his pupils blown wide.

“Angel, are you _high?”_

“Mayyyybe,” he said with a giggle. “‘S just coke. Want some?” he asked, pulling out a small baggie.

“Um, no.”

“More for me then. But seriously, babe, you should come down, at least for one drink. I’ll stick right by ya, nobody will know you ain’t dead.”

“Charlie and Vaggie would be pissed, though…”

“Those broads have been rubbin’ elbows with investors all night. Ya won’t even see ‘em.” He slung two arms around her shoulders. “C’mon, please? It’s New Years, and ya look like you been cryin’! I can’t stand fer that!”

She bit her lip, conflicted.

 _This is Hell, doing things you shouldn’t is the name of the game down here,_ a small part of her whispered. And Lord knows she needed a distraction.

“ _Please,_ Lee?” Angel said, giving her his best puppy dog eyes.

_Eh, what’s the harm?_

“Fine.”

He immediately pulled her into a crushing hug, and she laughed as he spun her around, feet lifting off the ground.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” he beamed. “Now, what are ya gonna wear?” He threw open the door to her closet, already sifting through her clothes to find suitable party wear.

“Anything but red.”

* * *

“Cheers to a shit fuckin’ year!” she cried, clinking her glass with Angel’s.

“Oh, you got no idea, babe.” He downed the rest of his champagne and took another drag of his cigarette. “Let’s hope the next one is a bit better.”

“That’s a pretty low bar, at least for me,” she said with a laugh. The bar was literally in _Hell,_ after all.

Speaking of bars in Hell, poor Husk was working overtime pouring drinks for a gaggle of demons, all of whom seemed to be on a mission to get as wine wasted as possible.

“Do you need help?” Lee asked as he handed three glasses of Pinot Noir to some tentacled monstrosity.

“Nah,” he said, “I’ve seen worse, trust me. Long as they’re payin’, I’m servin’.”

“About that… I’m a bit tight on cash right now, but I can pay ya in other ways…” Angel drawled, fluttering his lashes at the grizzled old cat.

“Are you shittin’ me?” he said with a scowl.

“Don’t worry, I got it.” Lee said, digging around in the pocket of her (blue, because _fuck you, Alastor!_ ) dress. Angel had approved of the pick, claiming any dress that had pockets was a good one, and done her hair and makeup so that she no longer looked like she’d been sobbing just a half hour earlier.

“You’re the fuckin’ best!” Angel hugged her tight, his words slightly slurred as his lanky frame drooped over her. God, his chest fur was _so soft._

“And you’re fuckin’ hammered,” she replied, grinning as she handed Husk a few crumpled bills.

“Nah, I ain’t that drunk.”

“Bullshit,” she said with a laugh. “You couldn’t walk in a straight line if you had a gun to your head!”

“I ain’t fuckin’ drunk!” He smushed the burning cigarette into the ashtray and tugged on her arm, pulling her off the barstool. “I’ll prove it to ya. Let’s dance, toots!”

“Uh, are you sure?” she asked, trying to keep up with his long strides as he dragged her towards the ballroom. “I can’t dance.” _And I should probably go back to my room…_

“Jus’ follow my lead!”

The ballroom was buzzing with activity, with throngs of demons milling about, gossiping, and tearing up the dance floor. The band was in full swing, playing a hopping, jazzy number as couples tore up the floor. A short, curvy blonde with feathers in her hair was singing center stage. She had pipes that could give the greats a run for their money, hitting both soaring high notes and rich, low tones with ease and a great depth of feeling.

Angel pulled Lee out onto the floor, spinning her out and pulling her back in so fast that she got a bit dizzy. She did her best to keep up with his fancy footwork, eyes trained on his dress shoes, but he chastised her, telling her to just “feel the music” instead. After stepping on his toes a few times, she got the hang of a simple jazz square, which Angel would interrupt occasionally to twirl her or break into his own dance solo, stealing the spotlight entirely. Lee didn’t mind though; she was beyond happy to be just a face in the crowd, feeling alive and _free_ for once.

The horn section blared, and the singer held her final notes as Angel dipped Lee so low she feared he’d drop her, both of them panting lightly.

“Damn, ya weren’t kiddin’. You were awful, at least ta start!” He grinned as he righted her.

“Oh, shut up,” she rolled her eyes, trying to suppress her smile as she joined in with the crowd’s applause.

“Why, thank y’all kindly!” the lead singer said in a buttery voice, a strong Southern accent shining through. “This next one goes out to all the lovers out there, so grab ‘em if you got ‘em, sugar!”

The saxophone played sultry notes as they made their way off of the floor.

“Hang tight, I’m gonna get us some more bubbly,” Angel said.

“Wait—” She tried to interject but it was no use, he had already disappeared into the crowd. Alone again with the lead singer’s crooning vocals as her only company, she started to feel a little self-conscious. She thought she’d just stay put, but those plans were dashed when she spotted Charlie and Vaggie on the far side of the dance floor, holding each other close as they danced. Not wanting to be scolded for being out of her room just yet, she decided to take refuge at every party’s haven for wallflowers: right next to the food.

The tables were pretty picked over, and there were a few other demons milling about, either on their phones or watching the band play. Stomach growling, she went to fix herself a small plate, only to find there were none left.

“’Scuse me!” a familiar voice rang out from behind her. She turned to see Niffty, carrying a stack of clean plates piled so high she could barely see over them. Lee rushed over, helping the little demon load them onto the table.

“Thanks, miss!” Niffty chirped.

“It’s me, Niff.”

Her eye widened in shock. “Lee?! Oh no, are you dead?”

“No, silly, I’m not. Keep your voice down, though.” She leaned down to whisper to her. “Alastor put me in disguise, and Angel didn’t want me to miss the party.”

“Wow, that sure was nice of Mister Alastor!” Niffty beamed.

She gave her a weak smile. “Yeah… sure was…”

“Are you having fun?”

“Yeah, I just made a fool of myself on the dance floor,” she said with a laugh. “Are you? It’s a party, Niff, you don’t have to clean the whole time.”

“I _like_ cleaning, though,” she insisted. “Besides, I don’t really know many people here.”

“Neither do I!”

An idea struck her. “Say, isn’t it traditional to kiss someone at midnight for good luck?” she asked, well aware of the little cyclops’ romantic streak.

Niffty nodded eagerly. “Oh yeah! It’s one of my favorite tropes to put in my fics!”

“Why don’t you see if you can find a cute guy to smooch?” Lee looked around and spotted a shy looking porcupine demon leaning up against the wall, eyes glued to his phone. “Like him.”

Niffty shook her head. “Eh, not my type.” She pointed to somewhere behind Lee. “That’s more like it! Hubba hubba!” Lee followed her gaze to see a towering ox demon, built like a brick shithouse and talking to a few smaller shark demons. She had to stifle a laugh. Of course Niffty would have a thing for bad boys, even if they were three times her size.

“Well, why don’t you go say hi?”

Niffty frowned. “No, he’ll reject me, I just know it.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re so cute, he’d have to be blind to say no!”

“I dunno…”

Lee gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “C’mon, you never know until you try. Worst case scenario, he doesn’t like you, and you never have to see him again.”

“…Ok, but,” there was a mischievous glint in her eye, “you have to find someone to kiss too!”

Lee laughed. “Deal. Now go get ‘em, tiger!” She smiled as Niffty practically skipped past her, eye fixed on the object of her infatuation. Lee hung back and watched for a few moments, feeling strangely protective of her. Luckily, the introduction seemed to go well, even though he had to bend down to shake her hand, and she quickly joined the chattering group of partygoers.

Plate in hand, she began to pick out a few choice bites of food to snack on. If Niffty was going to hold her to her word, she’d have to find someone to kiss, and she definitely didn’t want to have to lock lips with a stranger. She supposed she could always pay Angel to give her a peck on the cheek. Hell, if he was high enough, he might even do it for free!

She was shaken from her thoughts when she reached for the last piece of bruschetta, only to bump hands with someone who was going for it at the same time.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she said. She turned to see a tall man with blonde, slicked-back hair and rams’ horns.

“No, no, take it,” he said with a smile. “I insist.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. That snack’s chain of title has you written all over it.”

She grinned at his strange choice of words, popping the bruschetta into her mouth.

“Amon Dresden.” He stuck out his hand in greeting and she shook it, trying to chew and swallow quickly.

“I’m Lee. Nice to meet you,” she said finally.

“Pleasure’s all mine! So, what brings you to this little shindig?”

“Oh, I live here, actually!”

His green eyes widened in surprise. “You mean you’re actually trying that redemption shtick?”

“Not exactly. I’m part of the housekeeping staff, they take room and board out of my wages.” She shrugged. “It’s a nice place, and I needed somewhere to go.” _To say the least…_

“It’s not too drafty, is it?” he asked, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the insulation was from last century. Place’s got good bones though, even though the architecture’s a bit avant-garde.”

She laughed. “You sound like a real estate agent.”

He gave her a winning smile. “Right you are! I was pretty big in the game from ’76 ‘til I got knocked off in ’89. Now I’m small time, just leasing a few small properties and collecting rent.”

“You were _murdered?”_ His cavalier attitude caught her by surprise.

“Yeah, but I’ve had a few decades to get over it,” he said. “Looking back, it was my own damn fault I got burned. Market caused a boom that lead to too many places getting built up, demand didn’t keep up, I lost my investors a ton of money, then, _bang!”_ He mimed putting a gun to his head and shooting it. “What about you?”

“Oh, me?” She felt a flash of panic. “Um… car crash. Just a few months ago.”

“Jeez, you’re really green then,” he said with a wince. “No wonder you’d let ‘em work you to the bone to get a roof over your head. Say, if you ever want your own crib, you let me know, I can give you a discount on the first year’s rent.”

 _Already trying to sell me something, huh? Two can play at that game,_ she thought.

“That’s… actually really nice of you,” she said. “But I’m ok. I love my job, and I’m perfectly happy here. Y’know, if you ever wanted to check in, I’m sure you’d love it too. We have great rooms, wonderful amenities, and the staff aren’t too shabby, if I do say so myself.” She shot him a wink.

He grinned. “Damn, they should put you in their commercials. You’re a natural-born salesman!”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Dresden,” she teased.

“Please, call me Amon.”

* * *

Despite being separated in time by quite a few decades, she and Amon turned out to have a surprising amount in common. They were both huge movie buffs, especially action and horror movies, were avid readers, and agreed that legwarmers were the ugliest catastrophe to ever happen to fashion. Their tastes in music even overlapped: Amon had seen Poison live in Chicago back in 1988, and regaled Lee with tales of ditching his suit and tie for a vinyl jacket and sequins for the occasion. Before she knew it, it was ten minutes until midnight.

“…and the guy looks at the executioner and says, ‘Oh, the bananas had nothing to do with it, I’m just a bad conductor!’” Amon said.

Lee laughed out loud, clutching her stomach and nearly falling out of her seat. They had settled into one of the small tables set aside for chatting guests, trading their best jokes. She’d been sure her famous “bus full of nuns” joke would win, but it looked like Amon had her beat.

 _Wow, this guy’s really great,_ she thought. A tiny part of her thought he wouldn’t be too bad of a New Years kiss, but she brushed it aside. They had just met, and she hadn’t had nearly enough champagne to even consider the offer. Then again, even if she was drunk, she’d probably say no. Kissing strangers, especially in Hell, wasn’t exactly her style.

Amon stiffened. “Oh shit.” His gaze was fixed somewhere behind and to the side of her.

“What is it?”

“Don’t look now,” he lowered his voice, “but there is a very powerful Overlord sitting over there.”

“Overlord?” Lee turned, and her stomach dropped. There, sitting a few tables away, dressed to the nines with a glass of red wine in hand, was Alastor. He caught her eye and his perpetual smile widened slightly. He crooked a finger at her, beckoning her over like she was some sort of dog. She glared and shook her head.

_Fucking pinstriped asshole…_

“Hey!” Amon shook her by the shoulders. “What did I literally just say?!”

“Sorry…” She tugged on the hem of her dress.

“That’s the fucking _Radio Demon_ ,” he hissed. “He’s one of the craziest, scariest guys in this town.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” she deadpanned. “He’s also an asshole.”

“You _know_ him?”

“Unfortunately. He’s co-owner and seems to have nothing better to do than to make my life a living hell.”

“Uh—”

“He’s a sadistic egomaniac who gets off on scaring people, won’t take no for an answer, and thinks he’s God’s gift to demon-kind,” she continued, anger flaring. “But he’s just an annoying little shit.”

“Lee—”

“And don’t even get me _started_ on the dad jokes! The guy wouldn’t know humor that wasn’t pun-based if it bit him in the a—"

Her words were cut off with a yelp when a gloved hand wrapped around the back of her neck, metal claws digging into her skin. The dreaded sensation of static gave her goosebumps as she became aware of a presence looming over them.

“Why, fancy seeing you here!” Alastor chirped.

All coherent thought flew out the window as her mind melted into a jumbled mess of panic and memories.

“Do you mind if I cut in?” he asked, fixing Amon with a threatening grin. “I’d like to have a word with the lady.” He didn’t give him the chance to respond before Lee was yanked to her feet by her neck with an undignified squeak. “Thank you, my good man!”

Her legs wobbled as he steered her towards his table, his thumb stroking her neck all the while, tracing the line of her jugular. He made a show of pulling out a chair for her with his free hand, ever keen to act the part of a gentleman. She plopped down, smoothing out her dress in an attempt to still her trembling hands. Desperate, she glanced around, hoping to catch the eye of someone she knew, only to find that not only was their table completely empty, so were the others nearby.

“Much better!” he said, taking the seat next to her. “Now tell me, dear, why are you out and about?”

“Angel wanted to cheer me up,” she said, voice soft and hesitant. What did he want with her this time?

“And dear Mr. Dust abandoned you amidst these ruffians?” He raised an eyebrow. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Never fear, darling, I’ll ensure these wretched sinners don’t discover your precious little secret.” He grinned. “Consider me your guardian angel for the evening.”

“Knowing what I know now about angels, that’s not exactly comforting…”

“ _Even better.”_

A chill ran through her. “I need a drink.” She tried to get up, only to be yanked back down, a glass of champagne appearing in her hand. He gave her a crooked smile as he clinked their glasses together.

“ _À votre santé,_ sweetheart,” he said, taking a sip of red wine. The sight reminded her far too much of their encounter earlier that night, and she took a gulp of champagne to wash down the rising taste of bile in the back of her throat.

They sat in silence for a bit, as he was seemingly content to just watch the band play. Lee did the same and was surprised when the lead singer glanced in their direction. Her eyes fell on Lee and she did a double take, singing all the while. Alastor gave her a thumbs-up and the curvy blonde beamed, swaying her hips with renewed enthusiasm, each note pitch-perfect.

 _Did Alastor tell her about me? Charlie did say he knew the singer,_ she thought. A glance at her arms confirmed her disguise was still in place, so she couldn’t know she was human. Maybe Alastor had said she was a new guest at the hotel and made no mention of her mortal status. Still, she had looked surprised to see them together.

That sentiment must have been a common one, as she noticed nearby groups of demons had their eyes fixed on them, gossiping about the fate of the girl who was unlucky enough to end up next to the Radio Demon that evening.

“Is she—”

“No, I don’t think—”

“Haven’t seen her—”

Their voices ran together, murmurs mixing into a torrent of intrigue. It reminded her far too much of being back in the void, where she had been dissected and scrutinized before being cast into the depths of Hell, and she found herself shrinking away from their judgmental gazes.

“Maybe he’s gonna eat her?” Lee heard one particularly shrill bird demon ask.

“Nah,” her cat companion replied. “He’s gonna fuck her, _then_ eat her.”

 _That_ seemed to catch Alastor’s attention, his neck cracking sickeningly as his head swiveled in their direction. Lee clapped her hands over her ears as he emitted a painful squeal of radio static. The gossipers quickly made themselves scarce, and everyone else averted their eyes. Then, like nothing had happened, he turned back to the stage, happily humming along to the tune that was playing.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Does what bother me, dear?” he replied, eyes still fixed on the band.

“People avoiding you, not wanting to strike up a conversation, the gossip?”

He seemed to hesitate before answering: “Hmm… no. Why do you ask?”

“Well, don’t you get lonely? Don’t you want to meet new people?” _Or do anything halfway normal?_

He gave her a sidelong glance. “I’m always happy to meet _interesting_ people, and there aren’t many down here. If the rabble aren’t willing to approach me, all the better. I do like my personal space, after all.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck.

He grinned. “Others’ personal space is always negotiable, darling.”

“Well, couldn’t you use some of your magicky stuff and go in disguise? That way people will actually want to talk to you, not just kiss your ass because you’re _‘the Radio Demon’_ and all.”

“What a ridiculous notion!” he said with a laugh. “One’s reputation is all one has, and mine is well-earned! Although…” his expression darkened, “it would be interesting to watch the face of some poor soul who chose to wrong me as they realized just exactly who they were dealing with. That could be _quite_ entertaining.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she deadpanned.

“Do I?” His smile was teasing and almost boyish, but it brought her no comfort. If anything, it unsettled her more.

He was terrifying, and now that she’d gotten just the barest taste of his cruelty, she didn’t dare underestimate him. The fact that they were in public didn’t help, as she knew just how much he loved having an audience. But Charlie was close by, and she didn’t think he would do anything to her with the princess within earshot. Then again, she hadn’t thought he’d bind her in shadows and threaten to slaughter everyone here, either.

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

“I thought I suggested you wear red,” he said, ignoring her. He waved his hand and crimson patches began bleeding through the fabric of her dress, spreading until all traces of blue faded. “Much better.” He tilted his head, looking her up and down. “It suits you.” 

Dread twisted in her gut. Did this mean he had backed out of their bargain? Was he set to go on another rampage, with her as his witness?

“But you said—"

“Relax, darling,” he hushed her. “I just thought you could use some company. Our agreement still stands.”

“I _have_ company,” she muttered. She glanced back to where she and Amon had been sitting, only to find he had vanished. “Or had it, anyway…”

“Alright, y’all!” Lee turned her attention back to the stage, where the lead singer was making some sort of announcement. “We’ve only got a few minutes before the clock strikes twelve, so let’s give a big round of applause for the host of this soirée, Princess Charlotte Magne!”

There was a smattering of polite applause as Charlie made her way on stage, arm in arm with Vaggie. Vaggie’s silver gown sparkled under the stage lights as she adjusted Charlie’s bowtie, then passed her the mic.

“Uh, welcome everyone!” Charlie said, nerves and excitement clear in her voice. “I’m Charlie, and this is my girlfriend Vaggie, and we’re so happy to have you all here tonight!”

Vaggie’s eye scanned the crowd as Charlie spoke about the importance of redemption and the work the hotel was trying to accomplish. Her eye widened as it fell on Lee. Alastor gave her a friendly wave and she scowled, elbowing Charlie in the side.

“So, as we welcome the New Year…” Charlie trailed off slightly as she followed her girlfriend’s gaze, a flash of shock visible on her face before she regained her composure, “let’s take a minute to think about how we want to change for the better.”

“Booooo!” someone called out.

 _“And,”_ she continued, undeterred, “all the great things we can do if we come together, in a spirit of unity and friendship.” She raised her glass of champagne. “To new beginnings and fresh starts!”

Vaggie raised her glass in solidarity, but no one in the crowd followed. Instead, there were mutterings of disbelief and mocking laughter. The singer wrenched the mic from the princess’ hands.

“And to dancing the house down!” she cut in, trying to salvage the situation. That got a much better reception, with demons toasting and cheering. Alastor chuckled and raised his glass. The trombonist whispered in the plump blonde’s ear as Charlie and Vaggie made their way offstage.

“It’s almost midnight, ladies and gentlemen! One minute left!” the singer cried. “Gimme a beat, boys!”

_“Sixty! Fifty-nine, fifty-eight…”_ The crowd began to count down as the band kept time with each thump of the bass drum.

“So, you’re really not going to do anything?” Lee asked. Alastor raised an eyebrow.

“I already told you, I’m a man of my word.”

_“Fifty! Forty-nine, forty-eight…”_

“Well, excuse me for not putting much stock in that,” she muttered.

“Pardon me?”

_“Forty! Thirty-nine, thirty-eight…”_

“You said the same thing earlier, then tried to _bite_ me!” She shuddered, recalling the dark look in his eyes as he saw blood beading on her skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “I had no such intentions.”

_“Thirty! Twenty-nine, twenty-eight…”_

“Don’t you dare try to gaslight me!” she said, temper flaring. “You were two inches away from tearing into me before you snapped out of it!”

“I was perfectly in control.”

“ _Bullshit,_ Alastor!”

_“Twenty! Nineteen, eighteen…”_

“You’re a manipulative bastard,” she continued, champagne sloshing in her glass as she gestured accusingly, “but you’re not fooling me this time. I know what I saw! There’s no other explanation!”

“Oh really?” There was an edge to his voice as his eyes narrowed.

_“Ten!”_

Her breath caught in her throat as he grabbed her by the wrist.

_“Nine!”_

“What are you doing?!” she cried.

_“Eight!”_

“Correcting your perception,” he said coolly.

_“Seven!”_

His head dipped closer to her outstretched arm. Terror licked through her veins.

_“Six!”_

“Let me go!” She tried to in vain to pull out of his iron grip, heart seizing as images of tearing flesh and sharp teeth flashed in her mind’s eye.

_“Five!”_

“It’s alright, dear,” he murmured, eyes fluttering closed. “So stubborn…”

_“Four!”_

“Alastor, please!” She didn’t bother to hide her desperation.

_“Three!”_

“Shhhhh…” His breath whispered over her skin.

_“Two!”_

“Don’t—" Tears pricked at her eyes.

_“One!”_

There was a roaring sound, but it was far away, drowned out by the pulse in her ears.

The wider world fell away, dim and watercolor.

Time stretched apart, coming unglued.

It was just her.

And _him._

A man’s lips brushed against her, warm and soft, delicately tracing the line of her healing wound.

A monster’s eyes cracked open, hooded and blazing, boring into hers as he pulled away.

_“Bonne Année,_ cher _.”_

She didn’t remember getting up, stumbling away from him as the crowd cheered and toasted and _kissed_ each other.

She didn’t hear the saccharine apologies of the redheaded doll demon who bumped into her as she tried to weave her way through the throngs of drunk partygoers, nearly knocking her glass out of her hands.

She didn’t see Charlie and Vaggie waving to her, frantically trying to get her attention as she pushed through the ballroom doors.

It wasn’t until Angel grabbed her by the shoulder, stopping her halfway through her mad dash down the hall, that her sense of unreality began to fall away.

“Toots! I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for ya!” he said, brows furrowed in concern. He sounded like he was underwater. “Where ya been?”

“I… I—” She tried in vain to force the words out, head spinning. Her mouth was painfully dry, and she took a gulp of champagne, vaguely registering that it tasted sweeter than she remembered.

“Are you alright?” He was clearer now, voice tinged with worry. “And what’s with the new outfit?”

“I—he—” There was an unpleasant tightness in her chest, and her skin was humming, restrictive. She didn’t want this, she wanted to numb out again, to retreat back inside herself and let the world fade away.

“Who’s ‘he’?”

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Vaggie cried as she burst through the ballroom doors, strains of the band playing “Auld Lang Syne” escaping behind her. “Why is she _here?!”_

“Not now, Vags.” Angel snapped.

“H-he—” Lee stuttered, tears of confusion welling in her eyes. Her stomach churned and she shook with chills, flashing between feeling too hot and too cold in an instant.

“What did you do to her?!” She was furious, spear materializing in her hands as she marched towards them. “Why does she—”

“SHUT UP, VAGGIE!”

“Don’t you tell me to shut up, you—”

There was a high-pitched buzz in her ears, and the fluorescent ceiling lights were painfully bright. The hallway seemed to stretch unnaturally, growing longer and longer. She stumbled, off balance, knocking into Angel’s torso.

“What happened to her?” All traces of anger were gone from Vaggie’s voice.

“I dunno, but I’m taking her back to her room.” He hooked his arm around her waist, holding her steady. “Easy now, _dolcezza,_ ” he crooned. “You’ve had a long night. Let’s get ya to bed.”

She was vaguely aware of Vaggie slinging her arm around her shoulders, the two of them helping her keep her balance as they shuffled down the hall. The chatter of guests grew louder as they neared the lobby.

“Husk! Get me a ginger ale, will ya!” Angel called, using his extra arms to push their way through the crowd.

“Get it ya— _oh fuck._ ” Husk’s eyes grew wide when he saw them. He leapt over the bar, wings flapping and pushing the throng of complaining demons out of the way as he barreled towards them. “Get out of here _, now!”_

“Wha…?” Lee asked, still pretty out-of-it.

“What’s the…” Angel trailed off as he looked down at her. _“Figlio di puttana!”_ he swore under his breath.

“What is it?” She followed his gaze and gasped in horror.

The grey on her skin had retreated, now confined to rapidly shrinking patches.

She frantically patted the top of her head, only to find her horns were gone.

Her tongue ran over her teeth, which were now blunted and harmless.

She looked human.

She looked _alive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of the year, so it's time for me to stand up on my soap box once more.
> 
> When I started posting back in October, I never could've expected that this fic would do as well as it has. It warms my heart to see my small army grow every week, and to hear that for some of you this gives you something to look forward to and has helped you through some tough times. This story has been cathartic, fun, and helped me grow as a writer, and I appreciate each and every hit, kudos and comment more than you'll ever know. Your feedback and reactions bring me immeasurable joy!
> 
> Whether you've been with me from the beginning or just found this an hour ago, whether you're a "silent reader" or a regular commenter, my response is the same: I love you, I love you, I love you!
> 
> I'll see you all again on Tuesday, as usual. Here's to 2021!
> 
> Regina <3


	26. We Have A Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for all the comments on last week's installment! I'm so excited that I'm uploading this one a bit early, enjoy!
> 
> Content warning: violence, blood and gore; descriptions/depictions of past sexual assault, denoted in italics.

Mismatched sets of eyes stared at Lee in disbelief as excited murmurs rippled through the crowd. Vaggie jumped in front of her protectively, spear drawn.

Lee clung onto the spider, scared shitless as hungry demons sized her up. In her panic they seemed to all blend together, an eldritch horror with too many limbs and teeth and tongues.

“That’s a human—”

“How did—"

“Does she belong to—”

“No, there’s no—"

“Looks _really_ good—"

Everything felt hyperreal, the colors too bright, the whispers too loud. Adrenaline snaked through her veins as her breathing grew shallow. She was aware of every twitch of her fingers, the scrape of the fabric of her dress against her legs, the prickling shock of the hair on the back of her neck standing up.

“Angel, get her up to my room, _now,”_ Vaggie said through gritted teeth.

His grip around her tightened as he took a step forward.

Her heart beat triple-time.

Then everything snapped.

Monstrous cries and gnashing teeth. Something slick and wet wrapped around her ankle and wrenched her from Angel’s grasp, pulling her backwards on her belly into the crowd. A scream tore from her throat as frenzied, starved voices chittered in excitement, ripping each other apart to try to get to her first.

She had expected her life to flash before her eyes, to retreat inside herself as her brain tried to protect her from the horror of her inevitable death. Instead her mind was a torrent of _NO_ and _PLEASE_ and _GOD HELP ME_ as she kicked and wailed from the searing pain, shielding her face from their claws as they cut through her skin like butter.

There was a clammy, shuddering sense of dread as blood poured out of her, hot and wet and stinking, soaking through the remains of her tattered dress. Sharp teeth sunk into her leg as she curled up in the fetal position, trying desperately to protect herself; there was a sudden release of pressure as a chunk of flesh was ripped away.

A loud _pop-pop-pop-pop-pop_ stilled the writhing mass on top of her. Something heavy nearly crushed the air out of her lungs, blocking her vision. There was a sickening cracking sound, and blood roared in her ears as she tried to suck in a breath, pushing against whatever weight was against her.

And then the weight was gone. She sucked in a greedy lungful of air only to cry out in pain as furry arms hooked around her, whisking her from the floor.

“Kid?! Can you hear me?!” Husk’s voice was panicked as he took to the air, wings flapping like drumbeats as he pulled her from the horde. She tried to nod but her head just lolled uselessly to the side. Below them, Angel held no less than six guns, and his bullets tore through the frenzied masses as they closed in on the pool of blood she’d left behind. Vaggie was spearing demons left and right, trying to make her way to the elevator.

“Oh shit!” Husk banked to the right as some sort of bird demon lunged towards them. More demons took to the air on feathered and leathery wings as they gave chase. Angel’s spray of bullets downed a few, but the rest kept coming, clawing and trying to corner Husk, tearing through the carefully hung decorations.

**_“STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!”_ **

The air grew painfully hot as a furious Charlie Magne burst into the lobby. She was literally blazing, her blonde curls whipping around her like tentacles as she stared at the throngs of guests with crimson eyes. Two horns jutted out of her forehead, and her normally sweet face was contorted with rage. The pursuing demons stopped and stared. That was all the distraction that Husk needed. He clutched Lee tight as he swooped low, rocketing towards the hotel’s double doors.

Wood and glass splintered behind them as they broke through, the cold night air stinging her skin as Husk climbed higher and higher. Falling snowflakes swirled and danced as he carried her to safety, landing on Charlie and Vaggie’s balcony. He kicked open the French doors, and warm air cocooned her as he gingerly set her down on their bed, immediately pinching his nose. His fur was matted and stained with red, and his eyes were slitted, as if he was barely in control of himself. Without a word he flew out the open doors again, leaving her alone and bleeding.

She’d never seen so much blood in her life: some of it was sticky, beginning to clot against her skin while some poured out of her in fresh bursts as she tried to move. Each breath sent sharp pain shooting through her left side, and her stomach churned. To her horror, a chunk of flesh about the size of a playing card had been torn from her calf, revealing shredded, sinewy muscle underneath. She could see pearls of orange subcutaneous fat in one particularly deep cut on her stomach, and bile burned the back of her throat.

She didn’t get the chance to dwell on her mangled state, as Husk barreled through the balcony doors carrying an olive-colored cloth bag, a clothespin on his nose. He swore under his breath as he pulled out hunks of gauze, pressing them against the deepest cuts so hard she cried out. A thick cloth wrapped around her leg, just under her knee; a makeshift tourniquet to stop the blood from pouring out of the bite.

“Am I going to die?!” she choked out.

“Nah. I’ve seen guys survive a lot worse. This is nothin’ compared to the front lines, kid.” She suspected he was just trying to make her feel better, in his own twisted way, but he couldn’t mask the concern in his voice. He cut the remains of her ruined dress away with scissors as she put pressure against the cut on her stomach with her right hand, the snow-white gauze quickly becoming soaked through; trying to move her left arm was far too painful.

The door to the room swung open, revealing a disheveled looking Vaggie and Angel, covered in red and black blood that Lee hoped wasn’t theirs. Their eyes widened in shock at the state of her, and Angel looked like he was going to throw up.

“Get over here!” Husk barked, immediately taking control. He handed them cotton balls to stuff into their noses (even Angel, who Lee hadn’t been sure _had_ a nose until that moment), and set about ordering them around, packing cuts and flushing wounds with saline that made her squeal in pain. He pulled a long, curved needle from the pack and she winced as he began to stitch up her stomach.

“You’re lucky they didn’t break through the muscle,” he muttered. “Woulda been so much worse.”

“Well that’s a fucking re— _OW! SHIT!”_ she swore as he dragged the thread through her ragged flesh. “Fuuuuuck!” Tears leaked out of her eyes as she sniffled, the true terror of her ordeal just starting to sink in as he sewed her up.

Stomach now taken care of, he was finally able to carefully pull her into a sitting position, shrugging the rest of her rags off her shoulders. Most of the bleeding had stopped now, and her skin was unpleasantly sticky.

“Fuckin’ hell… yer back’s real bad. Tore right through part of the trapezius.”

“What does that mean?” She tried to turn her head but winced at the sharp pain that coursed down her spine.

“Means we gotta get you to a real doctor. You’ll need surgery, ASAP,” he said.

“God fucking dammit!” Vaggie was seething, pacing the floor and muttering under her breath in Spanish.

“Can’t’cha just fix her?” Angel shifted nervously from side to side. “C’mon, Husky, weren’t you a doctor or somethin’?!”

“I’m a combat medic,” he snapped. ”I only know how to keep people alive long enough fer the real docs to see ‘em.” His shoulders slumped. “I’ve done all I can.”

The building shook, rattling the flickering chandelier and knocking a few books off the bookshelf. Vaggie looked up a panic.

“I gotta go find Charlie,” she said in a rush. “She’ll know what to do.”

“Wait—” Angel tried to call after her, but it was too late, she was already out the door. “Well that’s just great! Captain Save-A-Hoe’s fucked off, the kid’s still torn up, and you an’ I don’t got a fuckin’ clue how ta fix her.” He ran a bloody hand through his hair, fists balled at his sides. “Why didn’t ya fly her outta there sooner?!”

“Don’t you give me that shit!” Husk glared at the taller man. “You’re the one who brought her down in the first place!”

“I wanted to show my girl buddy a good time, so sue me! Smiles is the one who did his mumbo-jumbo bullshit on her!”

Lee tried to suppress a sob as the two men bickered back and forth. It would be silly to expect demons to have good bedside manner, but this was ridiculous. She was hurt, emotionally fried, and needed the pain to stop. She wanted safety, security. She wanted to be _home._

The men’s argument was soon forgotten as the air began to buzz with power. Their shadows elongated, stretching up the walls and twisting into terrifying shapes. More shadows burst from the floor, writhing and taking the form of the last demon she wanted to see.

_**“̴̢̨̨̨̯͙̼̗͔̫͔̤͚̲̞̜̤̮̟̼̲͔̝̲̯̂̀̈̈̏́̄͌̔̕͜͝H̶̢̢̦̮̦͓͖̦̥̺̥̤̤̥̝͖̤̲̰̙̎̂̔̐̂̈́̐̑̉͒͂̃̊̓ę̷̛̛̞̱͉̩̲̞̦̠̭͔̫̞̞͖͈͕͚͚̮̭̦̱̫̽̀̉̾͛̌͌̐̿̆͐̔̚̕͜͠l̵̨̧̬͎͈̹̰̖͎̣͇͕̮̤̦̮̟̮̦̦̖̤̰̝͓̲̅̑̏̌̈́͒̔͗̉͝l̸̨̙̯̦̥͎̄̆̓̃̂͋̈́͝o̷̪̠̪̩̲̩͕͎͖̣̠͉̘͛̇̒̆̓̔̕ͅͅ,̵̢̨̢̡̢͔̭̟̩̲͚̜͙̺̤̞̰̺̽́͌̊̑̃̋ ̷̛̘̹̪̰̞͔͆͌̐̂͐̿̃̇͆̇̃̂̈́̾̄͝͝d̸̨̛̛̲̦̞̺̰͓̩͔̗̼̱̜͇͊̇̀́͂̉̑͑̈́̐́̎̽̏̕͘͠͝ǎ̶̡̢̢̧̝̪͕͚̤̣̱̬̜̯̯͍̖͖̞̞̺̳͓͖̘̟̿̒ͅr̴̡̗̞̮͉͖̱̯͔͇̟̗̪̲͉̦̥̗͕̒̉̽̂̇̉̽̅͆̕͜ͅl̸̢̢̛͉̲̩̖̜̣̭̗̯̰͎͈̞̻̞̩̙̙͖̝̗͔̬̀̾͛̏̏͛͑͊̋̒̀͗͂̋̍͘̚͝͝ͅͅį̸̡͉͔̱̬̠̪̬̖̖̟̲̪̣̗̝̰̱̥̥͖̜̫͋͛́̐͆̅̊̅̂͆̆̏͜͠n̴̡̧͔͙̱̩̘͖̖̳̥̊̍̐́̀̐̎̾͐͗̆͋̊̈́́͒̓̕͘͘͝ģ̵͎͙̮̜̬̹̳͎̯̺͉̤̣̍̒̄̓.̷̧̟͍͗̍̔͘”̴̛̭͇̜͙͎̠̭͕͉̐͂̐̾͐̀̏̿̃͘ͅ** _

He was painful to listen to, distorted and warped, and seemed taller, his proportions stretched and _wrong_. His eyes were bottomless pits, and his antlers had once again turned into a pointy array of pikes as a black, tarlike substance dripped from his mouth.

“Oh no ya—” Angel was cut off as a thick tentacle of shadow enveloped him, slamming him against the far wall with enough force that he left a dent. He sank to the floor, slumped over and groaning. Her throat closed up as fresh tears poured down her cheeks. She’d barely escaped with her life, been patched up and worried over, only to meet her death anyway. Entirely spent, a sense of hopeless resignation washed over her: she couldn’t fight him in her state, let alone try to run. Not that it’d make a difference.

“You don’t wanna do this, Alastor,” Husk said with a determined set of his jaw.

 _“Do not presume to know my desires.”_ He stalked closer, fingers twitching as his nostrils flared. It was clear he was hanging on by a thread.

“Alastor… please…” Her voice was tight.

“She needs a doctor.” His words were measured. “If she doesn’t get help, she could be maimed for life.”

 _“I’m aware.”_ Another step. _“Such a pity.”_

“I know you got connections. You gotta be able to get her to a surgeon.”

 _“I could.”_ His tone was almost playful. _“But I won’t.”_

“Fucking—you _asshole!”_ Husk said, losing all composure. “Whaddaya want from me, you sadistic motherfucker?! Another decade of debt? What’s it gonna take, huh?!” His claws clicked together as he tried to control his rage.

Alastor laughed, and a thousand voices joined in, running over each other in a cacophony of sound. _“There’s nothing you could offer, Husker. I’ve made up my mind. Step aside.”_

A whimper escaped her as she shivered and shook, her fear spiking once more. His head snapped towards her, his dark eyes narrowing as his jackal’s smile stretched wider. He was at her bedside in a flash, tossing Husk aside. The cat fell to a floor in a heap, his wings flapping once, twice as he tried to right himself, only to be crushed back against his body as Alastor bound him in shadows.

 _“Why do you tremble so, little one?”_ he asked, ignoring Husk’s curses.

“I—I don’t—please!” she hiccuped, her body wracked with sobs as agony radiated from her ribs. His shadow leapt from him, wrapping icy arms around her as she tried to wriggle away. “ _NO!_ Alastor, please don’t!”

 _"Be still, my dear_. _I mean you no harm._ ” His long fingers smoothed down her matted, blood-soaked hair. A tendril of shadow plucked the clothespin from Husk’s nose, ferrying it over to him. He pinched his nose shut, and the tension in the air dissipated as he snapped back to his normal self with a light _pop_.

“There, that's better,” he said, sounding slightly nasal due to his closed nostrils. “You smell lovely, darling, but it is rather distracting!” He straightened, readjusting his bowtie as the shadows holding Husk shrank back into the floor. “Go attend to the spider elsewhere, Husker. I need to concentrate.”

“Like hell I will!” the cat shouted, picking himself back up.

“Husker,” there was a dangerous edge to his voice, “am I not a man of my word?”

“What a-are you going to do?” she sniffled, shivering as his darker half tapped its cold claws against her skin. A delighted, inhuman growl rattled through its thin chest, its sadistic smile curling at the edges.

“Why, fix you up of course! Healing magic is bit of a lost art down here, unfortunately, but yours truly is well versed in it!” He snapped his fingers and Husk and Angel dissolved into static, blinking out of existence.

“Husk! Angel!" she cried, struggling in vain against the specter.

“Don’t fret! I just sent them away. They’re perfectly sa—”

The sound of the door being thrown open stopped him mid-sentence.

“Get the _fuck_ away from her, shitlord!”

“Oh no, Lee!” Charlie rushed over, wearing a worried frown. Her eyes flashed red as she breathed in the scent of her, scaring Lee half to death before the princess dutifully pinched her nose shut.

“Ah, Vagatha! Charlotte!” Alastor said, his shadow slinking away as he summoned another clothespin for Charlie. “Have you bid our guests a warm farewell?”

“What did you do with Angel and Husk?!” Vaggie’s spear was drawn, its tip stained red.

“Mr. Dust had some injuries of his own, and I sent Husker to attend to him. There’s nothing to fear! I have everything under control.”

“Lee, I’m so, so sorry.” Charlie’s eyes welled up with tears as she gave Lee's hands a comforting squeeze. “This is all my fault; we shouldn’t have invited so many people.”

“No, it’s not your fault, I—” She winced as a particularly sharp jolt crackled through her ribs. “I shouldn’t have been out.”

“Tell us what happened,” Vaggie said with a frown.

“You see, my dear, our—”

_“Not you, asshole.”_

“Well…” Lee paused, trying to find the right words between shaky, shallow breaths. She couldn’t tell them the whole truth, thanks to Alastor’s intervention, but she didn’t want to lie to them either. “Angel wanted to cheer me up. Alastor had put me in disguise, so I went down to have a couple drinks. I didn’t mean to stay for long...” she trailed off.

“And then what, he exposed you for shits and giggles?” Vaggie glared at Alastor.

“I already told you, Vagatha,” he said tersely, “Glamours cannot simply be removed at the drop of a hat. Unless…”

He knelt down at Lee’s side, turning her head ever so slightly as he caught her by the chin.

“Open your mouth.”

Charlie and Vaggie gasped as they leaned over to get a look; Alastor summoned a hand mirror. Her reflection alone was shocking, covered in dried blood, hair stuck to her skin. But true horror twisted in her gut when she looked in her mouth: a black symbol of some sort stretched across her tongue, almost as if it had been burned into the flesh.

“Somebody’s put a spell on you, my dear, and a rather complex one at that.”

“What is it?” Vaggie asked.

“It’s a dissipation rune,” Charlie said, eyes wide. “I’ve only ever seen them in books. The ingredients you’d need to cast this…” The demoness shuddered. “Whoever did this is either very powerful or has lots of friends in high places. I can check the guest list, see if anyone fits the bill.”

“We can worry about that later, hon. Right now, she needs a doctor.” Vaggie put a comforting hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Alastor stood, brushing off his jacket. “Not necessary. I’m perfectly capable of making our mortal friend more comfortable, so if you ladies will give me some privacy—”

“Hell no, _pendejo!_ ”

“I must insist, I’m afraid! Healing spells and energy transfers are taxing affairs, and our little darling is in a rather sorry state. If I’m to patch her up, I cannot be distracted.”

“We’ll be quiet, Al, but we’re not leaving.” Charlie said, voice firm. “She’s a guest, so she’s our responsibility.”

There was a hiss of disapproving static, then he cleared his throat.

“Very well,” he said, summoning his microphone and giving it a twirl. He reached up and removed the clothespin from his nose. Inhaling deeply, he grew monstrous yet again: a crown of spikes for antlers, a red “x” glowing on his forehead, eyes blazing.

“Stand back.”

He slammed his mic staff down on the ground, enveloping him in tongues of flame. Glowing red runes and symbols floated in the air, swirling around him. More symbols and snaking, vinelike lines crept across the carpet, arranging themselves into elaborate patterns as the bed she lay in was encircled. Dark tendrils burst from the floor, cloaking the two of them in a cocoon of night; Charlie and Vaggie were now nowhere to be seen. He turned his attention to her, the crimson glow from the floor casting strange shadows across his face.

“Now,” he said, “I must warn you that no spell is without cost. This will be painful, and afterwards you’ll feel quite worn out.” He sounded detached, almost clinical as he peeled off his gloves. “I’m also afraid that with the severity of your injuries, I won’t be able to fix everything at once, at least not without risking doing more harm than good. But I can speed the rest along, and you’ll be right as rain in a few days time. Do you understand?”

She gave him a small nod, eyes fixed on the small scars that peppered the backs of his hands.

“Good.” He pulled a small vial out of his pocket, thoughtfully examining the blood within. “I wonder, do you regret your sacrifice, now that you’ve seen the true nature of those you begged me to spare?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“No matter. It will not have been in vain.” He grinned as he popped the cap off.

Her stomach churned as he downed its contents, a satisfied sigh escaping him as he licked his lips. The symbols on the floor grew brighter and there was a heaviness to the air, a sanctity and a stillness that seemed almost worshipful. He moved out of her line of sight, and terror corkscrewed in her stomach when she felt the mattress sink down behind her. A puff of warm breath fanned across her bare shoulder; he was _smelling_ her.

 _“It’s alright, sweetheart,”_ he murmured, that distorted tone creeping back in. _“Unlike the rabid curs littering the floor of our lobby, I know that some things can be enjoyed in moderation.”_

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, trying and failing to keep the tremor from her voice.

He chuckled. _“I told you, my dear, I’m never one to cut the fun short. Tonight was so entertaining, I simply have to see how this all plays out.”_ He reached around to trace the line of the cut he’d made on her arm. _“Wouldn’t you agree?”_

Memories of his midnight… _action_ came flooding back, but any embarrassment she might have felt was quickly tempered by the waves of pain from her back, her chest, her legs. 

Fingers threaded through her hair, resting on the top of her head while his other hand pressed lightly against the small of her back. She stiffened at the strange sensation of skin on skin.

_“Brace yourself.”_

The flesh under his palms began to heat up as he whispered strange incantations, a pleasant feeling that quickly gave way to searing pain, licking up her spine and out through her limbs until it settled into her body’s most broken parts. Tears streamed down her face as bones knitted together, fibers of muscle stretched and grew, and jagged gashes began to close. The dried blood on her skin peeled off in flakes, rising into the air. She leaned away from him instinctively, desperate to escape the tortuous burn, but his grip on her hair tightened, pulling her back ever so slightly.

That was all it took.

The world flickered away.

_“I thought you liked me?”_

_The smell of cheap cologne. A tongue invading her mouth._

_"_ _But we aren’t—”_

_“Don’t be such a tease.”_

_A sliver of light filtering in from under the closet door. She couldn’t breathe._

_“Stop it—"_

_“Fucking bitch.”_

_Squeezing hands. A belt being undone._

_He looked at her like she was less than human._

The nightmare fell apart.

Awareness trickled back to her in bits and pieces. The sharp breaths that made her chest ache. Being able to move her left arm again as she pulled her knees to her chest. The cuts on her legs that were smaller now, scabbed over with rings of new skin encircling them. The sound of sniffling. And the leaden feeling in her bones, an exhaustion that washed over her like a tidal wave.

“Was it too much for you?”

Her vision sharpened and fell on the man ( _the monster_ ) kneeling beside her, looking tired but still pleased with himself.

“Such a shame, it was quite the sight! Some of my best work, if I do say so myself!” he preened. “But alas, you’re a fragile little thing, aren’t you? It’s no wonder you couldn’t stay present and endure it.”

She stared at him, eyes welling up once more. Her lips quivered as she tried and failed to form words. Unpleasant heat prickled on her skin, crawling and alien.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He tilted his head, expectant. When she still said nothing, his smile grew tight. “You should know better than to ignore me, dear.”

There was a flash of something chilling in his eyes, a predatory darkness that shook her to the core, and she flinched. She shook her head, teeth grinding together as she screwed her eyes shut. A sob bubbled up from her chest as she turned and hid from him, arms wrapping around her knees tightly, a base need for comfort overtaking her. She always hated this. Ever since that day she’d had to tread carefully, to be prepared to have her whole day derailed by a flood of unbidden memories.

She’d figured out some of the easier things to avoid on her own: dark, cramped spaces, the smell of cheap men’s body spray, certain songs. It was effective, most of the time: she would sometimes go months without incident. But despite her caution she’d inevitably find herself back in that closet with a phantom that had haunted her for years. Most of the time it came in quick, little flashes, things she could recover from and move on. Other times it was much more visceral, less of a narrative and more of a flood of sensation; those were the ones that rendered her unable to speak, the ones where she’d take at least a full day to come back to herself.

“Lee?”

A hand rested on her shoulder and she jumped, head snapping to face him. Those red eyes that were once so full of mirth now furrowed in what almost looked like concern, his smile thin-lipped and barely curved.

“It was something else, wasn’t it?” That soothing tone was back in his voice, his _real_ voice. “Something that pulled you away.” His expression grew more strained when she nodded vigorously.

There was a lightness to his touch, a tenderness she hadn’t thought him capable of as the pads of his fingers brushed against her, skimming across her bare shoulder and up the column of her neck. He lingered there, pressing just under her jaw as he found her fearful, skittering pulse.

“Your little heart’s racing, dearest.” He cupped her cheek as he wiped away a stray tear. _“Pauvre ti bête…”_ She swallowed hard as he drifted lower, caressing her throat before moving to rub gentle circles on her back, careful to avoid the cuts and slashes that marred her skin.

“Shhh, cher. Don’t be scared,” he whispered as she shook, more tears streaming down her face. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now. You’re safe, sweetheart.”

And in her broken state, shattered and pained and vulnerable, she _believed_ him, in spite of everything. The rational part of her knew he was cruel; knew he was selfish and cared for no one but himself. But right now his hand was warm and his eyes were kind and she was lost and alone, desperate for something to cling to.

“Take some deep breaths for me, will you?” he asked. She inhaled sharply, the rush of oxygen making her feel a bit lightheaded as her chest shuddered and heaved, sore ribs aching. “Not too fast now, darling, slower… _there_.” Elegant fingers ran up and down her spine in time with her breathing, keeping a steady tempo. “Just like that, good girl.”

They breathed in tandem, his rhythmic movements anchoring her to her body as her wildly thrashing heart began to slow. On occasion a sob would escape, or she’d jerk as another flash of long-buried terror found its way to the surface, and a small part of her would hiss that he must hate her, despise her for her weakness, her neediness. But if any such sentiments were stirring in the man beside her, he didn’t show them, choosing simply to soothe these little outbursts with a steady hand and soft, reassuring words of praise.

Eventually she settled, her mind quieting until at last he stilled, pressing against the small of her back once more as if in apology.

“We’re almost finished. You’ve been so brave for me, my dear. Well done,” he cooed. His other hand came to rest on her calf, right near her healing bite mark. “Just a little more, and then we’ll get you to bed, alright?”

Slowly, methodically, he traced chary circles and elaborate lines, focused in a way that seemed almost meditative, the slightest amount of strain present on his face. The skin there began to warm, leaving a trail of burgundy signs around the bite that glowed faintly, and she flinched, worried that the pain would return.

“Hush, dear. I’m the one who bears the cost of this one, not you,” he said. “This is a restoration sigil. You’ve lost a lot of blood; this will help you regain your strength.” He gave her a crooked smile. “You’re good stock, after all. Mustn’t let you go to waste.”

And _there_ it was, that cruel, inhuman streak she was now painfully familiar with. A snap of his fingers and chilly tendrils of shadow were crawling over her body, tugging on her limbs to unfold her as they stitched and smeared salves and applied bandages to her myriad of injuries. Their attentions were enough to remind her that she was still in her blood-soaked undergarments, and heat rose on her face as she tried to cover herself. He raised an eyebrow. Another snap and the ruined garments were gone, replaced by a modest, silky nightgown. She was fully clean now, hair detangled and no longer caked with blood.

“I’m sure your chaperones are beside themselves right now,” he said with a wink, pulling on his gloves. “Let’s show them all’s well, shall we?” Another wave of his hands and the shadows surrounding them retreated, the symbols on the floor fading away into nothing as their little cocoon opened.

“ _¡Mentiroso hijo de puta!_ ” Vaggie was furious, immediately lunging for him, only to be held back by Charlie’s bear hug. “What the _fuck_ was that?!”

“You demanded to stay in the room, I requested some privacy so I could concentrate. This was simply a solution to satis—” He was cut off as a throwing knife lodged in his chest with a dull _thunk_. He removed it with a sharp tug and examined it, unimpressed. “That’s not very polite, Vagatha.”

_“Go fuck yourself.”_

“Are you okay, Lee?” Charlie asked, disentangling herself from her furious partner. Lee nodded, feeling a little less out of sorts now, and she frowned. “Are you sure? Because—”

“The little dear’s quite alright, thank you!” Alastor interrupted, seemingly unbothered by the faint black stain soaking through the hole in his suit. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think we better blouse.” He gave his mic staff a twirl, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Wait, what are you—"

“Goodnight, ladies!”

The world melted away, blinking into blackness before surging back once more.

She was greeted by the familiar sight of her cracked ceiling, neatly tucked in with a grinning demon by her bedside. The fact he could seemingly teleport into her room at will didn’t sit right with her, to say the least. Had all the late-night knocking just been for show?

“Well, that was quite the fiasco!” he said cheerily, summoning an ornately carved armchair. “While I’m fond of the theater and the pictures, it’s often reality that provides the most passionate entertainment!” A book of Greek mythology appeared in his hands as her lights switched off on their own, save for her small bedside lamp. She sat up, sore muscles aching in protest.

“No, no, none of that,” he scolded. “You’ve already given a wonderful performance this evening. No need for an encore.” He waved his hand and a steaming mug of that strange tea appeared on her nightstand. “Drink up.”

She shook her head. There was no way she was letting her guard down around him, not after the stunt he’d pulled.

“Sweetheart, if I wanted to hurt you, I’d have already done so,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Now, it’s come to my attention that your education in the classics has been sorely lacking.” He flipped open his book, thumbing through the pages.

“On his mother’s side, Orpheus was more than mortal, the son of the Muse Calliope and a Thracian prince,” he read. He glanced over at her and his smile faltered slightly. “Well, if you’re not going to drink it, lie down at least, darling.”

He tilted his head expectantly and she sighed, flopping back down only to wince in pain as her injuries chastised her. It was clear he wasn’t going to leave her be just yet, so she’d just wait until he finished and left her alone. He snapped and a pile of pillows materialized under her, propping her slightly upright and cushioning her sorest spots.

“None could resist Orpheus and his beautiful voice,” he continued, sounding slightly smug, “and his skill with the lyre had no rival but the Gods above. He moved the rocks on the hillside and turned the course of rivers. One day he met a fair maiden, the young Eurydice…”

She didn’t trust him one bit, but the man was a damn good storyteller. Despite her best efforts she found herself getting swept up in his tale of the young lovers, Eurydice’s tragic death, and Orpheus’ descent into Hades to free his beloved wife, all set to a score of classical pieces meant to pull at the heartstrings. It was a sad tale, one of great sacrifice and encounters with the denizens of the underworld, culminating in a pleading performance for the King of the Dead himself.

Her eyes slowly slid closed as her very own Hades spun her a yarn, painting images of gods and monsters in her head. As much as she hated herself for it, she could no longer fight her battered body’s cries for rest. Just as Orpheus and Eurydice were set to begin their odyssey back to the land of the living, she drifted to the edge of sleep.

She hoped they made it home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretentious references to Greek mythology? In _my_ fanfiction? It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> In all seriousness, I hope y'all liked this extra long installment. This is my first time writing an "action scene," so I hope it turned out okay!
> 
> What dominos will fall now that our heroine's presence has been revealed? What new players will enter the fray? And how does Alastor feel about all of this? You'll have to wait until next week to find out, so mark your calendars!
> 
> Hope you all had a healthy and safe holiday season. Sending you lots of love! <3


	27. Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New plans are hatched as word of our heroine's presence spreads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The concept of bonding marks is ~~shamelessly stolen with permission~~ inspired by "The Shackles On Your Soul" by randomrosewrites! It's a great fic with excellent world-building and lore, as well as some great Vox vs. Al rivalry. 
> 
> Go give it a read (and maybe tell them Regina sent you ;D if ya want): https://archiveofourown.org/works/23970007/chapters/57653020

It took five calls before Vox finally picked up the phone.

“What the fuck do you want, Velvet?” he asked, irritation evident in his voice.

“Oh my god, Voxy, it totally worked! There’s a new human in Hell!”

He sat up, shrugging out of Valentino’s embrace. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“Uh, duh? Didn’t you peep the vid I sent you?”

“No, I was… busy.”

Valentino grinned at that, lighting another cigarette. “He had his mouth full,” the pimp drawled, hoping to be loud enough for the doll demon to hear. Vox flipped him off, slipping out of bed.

“I’ll watch ‘em in a minute, Vel. Did your girl make the drop successfully?”

“Yep! Cashmere’s the one who took the video! Oh, and she also sent me this awesome pic of her and Silk with—"

“Focus, Velvet. What about a bonding mark?” he cut her off, pulling on his boxers as he stood.

“Didn’t see one. Far as I know she’s still on the market. She’s cute, too! I could just _eat her up.”_ There was a barely restrained mania to her words.

A smile crept across his screen. He’d been puzzling over what to do if she’d already been claimed, but now he had no such obstacles. Now it was time to set the next phase of their plan in motion.

“Excellent. Why don’t you take the girls out to celebrate tomorrow night, my treat? I’ve got a table at Ereshkigal’s on reserve and some poor sons of bitches who didn’t pay me for you to play with afterwards.”

“Can we take the helicopter?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, you can take the helicopter. But if you break this one it’s your funeral.”

There was an excited squeal from the other end of the line. “Ohemgee Voxy you’re, like, the best! Say hi to Val for me, kisses!”

“Bye, Vel.”

“How’s our favorite babydoll, Voxy?” Val blew a puff of enticing red smoke in his direction.

“Batshit crazy, as usual. But it looks like that potion she’s been slaving over did the trick.” A wave of his hands and the video Velvet had sent was pulled up on the wall-sized flatscreen in front of him.

It was shaky to start with (and filmed in portrait mode, who even does that anymore?), showing a mass of demons piling over each other, ripping off limbs and wings and tearing at hair and fur. There was a deafening series of pops, and Val shouted to “turn that fucking shit down!” The mob had dispersed, temporarily at least, with a few sinners lying motionless in a heap, awaiting re-gen. Vox zeroed in on a distinctly fleshy-looking foot sticking out from under the pile, twitching slightly. It lacked the dullness or unnatural colors that were common in Hell, and a buzzing thrill ran through him.

“Babe, is this what she—”

“Just wait.”

Red wings swooped into frame as a cat demon started unearthing whatever poor creature was trapped underneath the not-quite-dead bodies of the fallen. He recognized him as one of the Radio Demon’s lackeys, Musk or Mutt or something. The demon took to the air, cradling something in his arms. He zoomed in, playing the video frame-by-frame until… _there._ A face, blood-soaked but undeniably human, looking down at the carnage below with hazy, unfocused eyes.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Val said, slithering out of bed. “My Angelcakes wasn’t trippin’ after all.”

“Hold it.” Vox kept his eyes glued to the screen, watching as the frames flickered by until a clear shot of the human’s body was visible. He paused, zooming in again on her arms, her chest, her legs, anywhere that was likely to hold a bonding mark. Praise Lucifer, there seemed to be none visible through the blood smearing her skin.

“She’s still free. We’re in the clear,” he said, grinning in triumph.

“That’s nice. Now come back to bed, Voxy.”

“In a minute.” He pulled up his contacts, dialing the director over at 666 News. “Dolion, I’ve got a scoop for you—” He jumped slightly as long arms wrapped around him, a hand sliding down his stomach.

“Don’t keep me waiting, baby.” Val’s voice was husky and warm, with the slightest bit of a growl. “You know I’m not patient.”

“Yes, cancel the story on the gang war on the eastside. Trust me, Katie’s gonna love this one. Guaranteed to go viral,” he continued, trying to keep his composure even as his boyfriend’s fingers danced lower. “I’m sending it over now, have graphics made and ready to go. I want this on the air first thing.”

“Voxyyy…” Val tugged on his waistband, releasing it with a loud _snap_. “You don’t wanna get punished, do you?”

“I said in a minute, jeez!” he snapped, hanging up the phone. “Fuckin’ horndog…” He had just hit send when the phone was wrenched from his grasp and thrown against the TV, shattering them both. “What the fuck, Val?!”

“I’ll get you a new one tomorrow. Now,” he slipped his hand into his boxers and Vox groaned. “lemme teach you a lesson.”

“I hate you, y’know?” He rolled his eyes.

“Doesn’t feel like it, babe.”

* * *

Alastor lay in bed, thoroughly spent yet satisfied as he stared at the ceiling of the penthouse suite.

He had been hoping his business partner’s soirée would stir up a bit of fun, perhaps a scuffle between rival gang leaders or the untimely appearance of a scorned lover. But oh, how the evening had over-delivered, all thanks to their mortal guest.

She’d already provided him with ample amusement that night: her heartfelt pleas for the lives of their guests, her noble sacrifice, her _beautiful_ screams. Imagine his surprise when she’d surfaced for an impromptu second act, bumping gums with some unsuspecting palooka! And the finale, why, he couldn’t have thought of a better twist! He’d have to find whoever broke through his enchantment, first to congratulate them on their skill, then to skin them alive for damaging such valuable goods. Luckily, she would recover, physically at least. She’ll wake up tomorrow dappled with bruises and bearing new scars, but she’ll be alive, nonetheless.

Her mental state, however, gave him just a twinge of worry. He’d noticed that distant look in her eyes as she retreated inward, smelled the piquant fear that came not from him but from a phantom of her own making. It reminded him of the eyes of some of the men who came back from the Great War, the feeling Husker tried to disguise with drink, the same look his friends back in New Orleans said he’d sometimes wear when unpleasant memories surfaced unbidden. He’d felt compelled to soothe her, to settle her racing heart with a gentle hand and quiet her panicked mind with sweet words. To see her broken in that manner had brought him no pleasure, for he knew first-hand that maladies of the mind were fearsome things and much harder to fix. Perhaps hers was part of the reason she was so infuriatingly hesitant to sign herself away.

He shifted, trying to get comfortable as he hummed along quietly to the soft music he played. Even as a boy, he’d had a hard time falling asleep, kept awake by things that went bump in the night, monsters both real and imagined. When he fell and first became the terror, the whispered thing that chilled bones and made sinners make haste to run from him, he’d expected relief. But even as countless foes fell at his feet and warmed his stomach, the shadow of that shivering child remained, surfacing in sour dreams and shattering the fragile peace on which his psyche rested.

His dear mother had been the only one who could help, rubbing his back as she told him old stories and sang him to sleep, but after she passed he’d only become more nocturnal, especially after he realized what grand adventures and forbidden delights the dark could hold. So strong was the pull that even his most soporific sleeping draughts could do little to calm him. Still, a good night’s rest (when he could manage it) brought a freshness, a clarity of thought he’d found few ways to achieve.

In a way he envied her. Twice she’d succumbed in his presence, easily slipping away into unconsciousness even with the devil curled at her bedside, content to trust him of all people to let her rest.

 _Trust._ It was a gossamer thing, ethereal and in short supply around here. Yet she seemed to almost burst with it: trusting the princess to keep her safe, confiding in Niffty and the others about her worries and fears, and expecting, nay, _demanding_ he resist his darkest impulses as her eyes fluttered closed. Seeing her so vulnerable was a peculiar sort of intimacy, not one he’d shared with many beforehand (or wished to share, truly) but strangely enjoyable all the same.

The clock on his nightstand _tick-tick-ticked_ as he attempted to still his racing mind. It was rare that he had to revise his strategy a third time, and if he wanted to seal the deal, he would need to be playing with a full deck. Luckily, he already had an inkling of what to do: she’d responded well to his attempts at comfort, and while genuine kindness was a luxury he reserved for only his dearest companions, perhaps he could spare a scrap or two for her. A necessary business expenditure, he supposed, for such a valuable reward. And if he was entirely honest, it wasn’t much of a sacrifice. She was a witty little dish, she’d had moments where she’d served as fine company, and any unpleasantness that came from her crass and headstrong nature was tempered by the flavor of the lovely ichor that flowed through her veins.

Her blood had smelled delectable that first night, like his mother’s cooking, like a dark, mossy forest, like the petrichor that accompanied the first rains after a long dry spell. But he couldn’t have imagined the taste would be so exquisite: warm and salty, well-seasoned with terror and rich with that rarest of qualities in Hell, _innocence_. There was strength as well, a quiet power that buzzed over his tongue and down his throat, sinking into his bones and filling him with a humming, crackling vitality. Of course, it lacked the complexity of a true vintage, the bitterness of a soul whose mortal sins had tainted their very essence, but it was still unique, comforting in a way he hadn’t expected. It was a shame he hadn’t been able to sip it straight from the source.

Images of her bloodied face flashed in his mind’s eye: skin painted a lovely scarlet save for the streaks where rivulets of tears had washed the gore away, hairline fractures in a vermillion mask, and he shivered. Red really _did_ suit her.

It was a strange contrast; such powerful magic in such a fragile vessel. Even the tiniest, weakest denizens of Hell had sharp claws, or a poisonous bite, or strong legs on which to flee. She had none of that: a mind prone to dangerous bouts of compassion, skin that was soft and yielding like overripe fruit, twitching muscles that lacked both the power and dexterity to do her any good. She even _smelled_ delicate, all lavender and fresh linen and bergamot. And now that she’d received such a grave reminder of her weakness, she should be desperate enough to shackle herself to him.

That is, if he could get the stubborn girl to see reason. He was already fighting with one hand behind his back thanks to the princess’ blasted instructions, and to his displeasure she was proving to be a more worthy opponent than he’d expected. While she’d endured his gentle torments, he hadn’t expected her to be so resistant to his charms as he tried to woo her, hoping to make her dizzy and enamored enough to make a deal. He was good at what he did, even though sins of the flesh held little interest to him, and he’d been confident he’d have her wrapped around his little finger in no time. But once again she’d defied his expectations, frustratingly secure in her resolve. And for her to respond with duplicitous advances of her own, why, that was truly out of left field! She’d clearly been egged on by the lascivious spider, but even still, some of her improvisations had managed to break his composure.

Rage and an unfamiliar humiliation twisted in his gut at the memory. After the incident at the bar he’d had to indulge in a gluttonous bout of violence just to feel like himself again, and he’d caught quite the tongue-lashing from dear Charlotte and the irascible Vagatha for his troubles. It was wholly necessary, though! Reputation was everything, and Heaven forbid anyone thought he was going _soft._

 _What a maddening little mortal_ , he thought. _Insolent and defiant to the bitter end._

He was a patient man, but she’d stretched him thin, so much so that he’d seriously considered sewing that pretty little mouth of hers shut, consequences be damned. Instead he’d found another way to shut her up, and while some of the filthy French phrases he’d whispered made him nauseous, he’d still delighted in the sight of her flushed cheeks and shaking hands, in how her bravado shrank into something tenuous with the lightest of touches.

Watching her defenses crumble was simply _intoxicating._ In an instant he’d banished the brash bearcat who fixed him with scowls and hurled curses without a care in the world, reducing her to nothing but a bashful little belle, wide-eyed and trembling and oh-so-breakable. It reminded him of how most sinners treated him, fleeing from his presence and avoiding his eyes, but there was a simmering curiosity to it: the wicked tension of a woman at war with herself, drawn to something she knew she shouldn’t be.

And tonight was the _coup de grâce_ , his victory confirmed when just the barest brush of his lips sent her scurrying away like a newborn fawn on wobbly legs. He’d only been demonstrating his self-control, keen to prove to her she had no right to accuse him of trying to tear into her like some mangy dog. However, it was clear she’d interpreted the gesture as one that was far more intimate than he’d intended. No matter, he’d made his point. That he’d been given such a show for his troubles, well, that was all the better in his eyes.

An impish, vicious glee settled in his chest. She was a rare breed, fearful and fascinated in equal measure, and seeing her in such a state had stirred the predatory instincts that simmered under his skin. Perhaps he’d continue his little experiment after their deal was inevitably struck. It’d be fun to see just how far he could push her.

Part of him wondered what would have happened to this vexing girl if Husker hadn’t intervened, or if he himself had indulged and finished the job. Would she end up back in Hell, having shed the last vestiges of her mortality? Or would she be welcomed on high, doomed to an afterlife of boring, stifling purity? Perhaps she’d just blink out of existence as the cosmic scales rebalanced themselves, leaving behind an empty shell in some hospital on the surface. Unfortunately, he had no way to satisfy his curiosity, what with his business partner’s orders and his own plans in the way.

Normally he’d work out his frustrations with a good hunt, but he was _exhausted_ , and didn’t want to risk encountering an adversary in this state. Still, it was hard to settle knowing such easy prey lay just a few floors below him. But he was a man of his word, and the demons who littered the lobby would eventually get up and shuffle home, just as the others had. They’d all be able to crawl back into their hovels and nurse their wounds, to lie safely in their beds tonight as they re-grew bones and stitched organs back together.

But after that? Oh, he’d make them _pay_ for every drop they spilled, every speck that soaked into the carpet or landed on undeserving tongues. Already he’d sent out a few shadow scouts, marking the paths of the offending guests as they went their separate ways, sticking to the torsos and limbs of the fallen that had yet to reconstitute themselves. They’d risked his little human’s life and had nearly ruined all his carefully laid plans. They tried to rob him of what was rightfully his, and he didn’t take kindly to thieves.

His retribution would be thorough, swift and _final._

* * *

They say a lie gets halfway around the world before the truth can get its boots on.

Well, truth must not have had its cup of coffee this morning because things were starting to get a little ridiculous. Sure, it’d been more than a few decades since a Bridged soul found itself in Hell, but really? Claiming the human had ancient, eldritch powers? He’d seen the video, and the poor girl barely looked old enough to tie her shoes. If he had to guess, she was only a few decades out of diapers!

And then there were the accusations of infidelity being leveled at some of the aristocrats who were able to temporarily access the living world, claiming the “human” was the product of some illicit interdimensional affair. As if they’d actually be interested in getting down and dirty with some commoner (though he didn’t put anything past Prince Stolas, the man was _insatiable_ ). No, if that were the case, he’d have felt it the moment after birth and sent a retrieval squad to collect the squalling hybrid. He sighed, taking a sip of his apple cider.

People would believe anything nowadays.

Not that he minded. Lies were his stock and trade, and often had far more interesting consequences than the truth could ever hope to bring. Hell, even half-truths could stir up plenty of trouble! And with trouble came drama, and with drama came ample opportunities for mischief, and mischief is what made this carousel of a realm just topsy-turvy enough to keep opposition forces from uniting or dissent from spreading through the ranks.

His big brother would’ve disagreed, no doubt. He’d look down on him from his pedestal and claim that truth allows for order and stability, and stability begets goodness, and that good and evil were the axes on which their old man’s universe turned. Even after all this time, anger bloomed in his belly. Michael had always been obsessed with dichotomies, everything in black and white, no room for grey. But then again, that sort of thinking is what allowed his little rebellion to blossom all those millennia ago and earned him a kingdom of his own in which to play ringmaster, so he supposed he should be happy that his twin was such a stick-in-the-mud.

He thumbed through his daily intelligence briefing. Chaos was already beginning to spread. He may work hard, but the media works harder, and gangs and kingpins were already placing bets and staking claims, using the upheaval to try to further their own agendas. And that was just fine by him! Things had been stale as of late; the last bout of excitement he’d seen out of Pentagram City was when that radio fellow first started shaking things up back in the 30’s.

His phone buzzed. Lilly finally had some time off between legs of her tour, and he’d cleared his schedule to spend the next week between _her_ legs. But now she was running late because of some mix-up at the airport, and he’d have to spend at least another three torturous hours away from his beloved wife. He sighed, turning on the TV. At least now he had something interesting to watch while his men hunted down the poor sinners responsible for her delay.

It was unfortunate that this new spectacle wasn’t built to last. He knew she was nothing but a flash in the pan, soon forgotten after the universe corrected itself. And while human blood was valuable to lesser beings (he’d personally outgrown the taste centuries ago), the power even the rarest, most potent strains held wasn’t one one-hundredth of the strength needed to present any real challenge to the throne.

No, what interested him was the _location_ of this particular human, as well as the fact she’d managed to fly under the radar for so long. It was surely no coincidence that she’d been discovered at the very property his little apple dumpling was foolishly trying to turn into… something. A bed and breakfast, maybe? He couldn’t remember.

The tiniest pang of guilt flashed through him. His daughter might be soft-hearted failure prone to flights of fancy, but he still loved her, and he couldn’t remember the last time they’d spoken. Perhaps he’d invite her and her girlfriend (Veggie, was it?) over for dinner. They could even bring the human, give her the grand honor of meeting him before she was inevitably snuffed out, or one of the traffickers got their hands on her and sold her off. After all, he’d always had sympathy for the fallen, and the newfound attention she brought might be enough to give his little princess’ passion project a snowball’s chance of success.

The Devil smiled as a symphony of explosions and carnage flitted across the screen.

Things were about to get interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Apple Daddy himself finally making an appearance? I _wonder_ how this will complicate things? ;) Also, this chapter contains the most outright graphic/explicit stuff I've ever published, and of course it's Vox/Val lol. 
> 
> Plus, we get another look inside Alastor's head! A mon-Al-logue, if you will. I love writing these looks at things from his perspective, but to do so I have to put myself in a really weird headspace to get things to flow properly. Still, I think I managed to capture his thoughts and feelings on the situation semi-accurately. Feel free to overanalyze it, as our poor boy sure won't! XD
> 
> This was another chapter that ended up going a different direction than I initially planned, in more ways than one. I know I joke about the little people in my head having minds of their own, but it's the best analogy I can come up with. And _hoooo boy_ do they like to take the reins from me! Al especially, the ~~dom~~ control freak that he is, but now also Lucifer. He initially wasn't going to make an appearance until Act 2, but he was like "Psych, bitch here I am! Put me in, coach!" Also, I headcanon that Lucifer is absolutely whipped for Lillith and this is a hill I will die on, mainly because guys who passionately, aggressively love their wives is a soft spot of mine. Luci x Lilly 5ever, y'all.
> 
> Finally, a brief note for any of you who might be new to AO3: In addition to bookmarking fics, AO3 also has a feature where you can subscribe to a fic and get email notifications when a fic updates! I mention this only because I've gotten a fair amount of new readers since December, and I know a few of you are very invested in the weekly updates. Since my upload time is a bit scattered, this feature can help you keep on top of things, should that be your desire. Please note that this feature is only available to users with AO3 accounts, so unfortunately my guest readers won't be able to take advantage of it, but making an AO3 account itself is pretty speedy. When I joined last year, I was only in the queue for a little under 24 hours before my account was made. I also have a separate Gmail account for my writing/fandom stuff to help keep my inbox organized, which I highly recommend if you're a busy bee like me! :)
> 
> Next week we get a good look at the fallout of the disastrous New Years fiasco! See you soon! <3


	28. Breaking News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee finds herself in the middle of a media frenzy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I caved and showed this fic to two of my IRL best friends (hi M + T!), which means there are now two real people who know the person behind the pseudonym. It's made me more paranoid and anxious, but I think I mostly don't regret it. I have a "real job" and a whole life as a "real adult," and the fear of that world and my fic world colliding is always at the back of my mind, especially with how toxic internet communities can get nowadays. 
> 
> To clarify though, I mean toxic like in terms of shipping wars and doxxing people who don't share your headcanons, not like someone justifiably being cancelled for being a racist or something. Don't get it twisted, y'all. And for the record, I'm a multi-shipper anyway and a big proponent of "ship what you want as long as they're consenting, unrelated adults." I'm also aware that in some corners of the fandom, OCxCanon shippers and ReaderxCanon shippers get a bad rep, but I don't care. Cringe culture is dead and I will sit on its corpse like a throne, wearing a papier-mâché crown made of self-indulgent fics.
> 
> This fic's also gotten far bigger than I ever expected (we passed 10k hits and 400 kudos last week, woo-hoo!), and I'm incredibly grateful to each and every one of you, but it still makes me a bit nervous. Putting myself and my words out there has been both terrifying and wonderful. I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you all for being so nice and supportive. Let's knock on wood and hope I continue to dodge the drama bullets that end up flying in any sizable fandom ^__^'
> 
> On with the show!

Lee woke to the sensations of a rumbling stomach, a dry throat and the not-so-gentle jostling of a certain spider.

“Wake the fuck up, sleepin’ beauty!” he said, shaking her out of her slumber.

“’S too early…” She tried to turn away, grimacing as she slid off her pile of pillows, becoming more aware of the dull ache in her limbs and the soreness in her chest.

“It’s two in the afternoon, toots. Get ya lazy ass outta bed!”

She groaned as he yanked away her covers, robbing her of her warm cocoon. He was too _loud,_ and her head throbbed painfully.

“Alright, alright, I’m awake,” she grumbled, wincing as he helped her sit up. Why did everything hurt? Why did—

_Blood sticking to her skin. Foul breath pouring out of open jaws, feverish and hot. Wet sounds, a tear, a rip, a scream._

_Wings like war drums. Stained glass scattered in the winter air. Eyes glossy with tears._

_Red coals in the deep dark. Long fingers smoothing down her hair. Nerves alight, the stretch of muscle and bone._

_Phantom hands and invisible scars. A closet door. Taking and clawing and stealing and no no no—_

_Touch. Breath. Rhythm. Something sprouts, tremulous and hopeful, unfurling new leaves._

_A song of love cracks the stone heart of a god._

“Damn, bitch. You look like shit,” Angel said with a concerned frown. “And what’s with the get-up?” He tugged at the lace strap of her nightgown, puzzled.

“It’s new,” she said, shaking out of her thoughts with a light cough. “Could you get me something to drink?”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, getting up to fetch her a glass. The cold water was like silk going down her throat, and a slight chill ran through her as it pooled in her empty stomach. She set the cup down on her nightstand, right next to that damn music box.

 _I swore I got rid of that_ , she thought. The box looked no worse for wear and sat atop a small envelope sealed with wax.

“Oooh, what’s this?” Angel teased, snatching it up.

“Hey!”

“Wonder who this— _OW!_ ” He broke the seal of the envelope and yelped, dropping it like a hot potato. “Fuckin’ Christ, that hurts!”

“Serves you right…” she muttered.

After a few cautious taps didn’t result in her getting burned, she gingerly picked it up the offending piece of stationary. There was no name, but the wax seal embossed with a stag’s head and microphone gave her a hint as to who it was from. Inside was a letter written in neat red ink on creamy, expensive-looking paper.

‘Good morning, my darling!

I hope you’re feeling better after your little fiasco! My apologies for being unable to greet you in person, but I have quite a few debts to collect post haste. We can’t all laze the day away in the arms of Mr. Sandman!

It appears word of our sockdollager has spread! The airwaves are posiliutely abuzz with intrigue, and it’s as if every stringer and newshawk in Hell has been calling our front desk, hoping to have a word with you. Poor Husker had to cut the phone line!

The talking heads on the picture shows are similarly enamored: they’ve been putting forth all manner of conjectures as to how you’ve come to be in dear Charlotte’s good graces. The princess now has to factor the cost of a new television into this month’s budget, as Vagatha promptly destroyed it after hearing their lewd “theories.” Broadcast standards have really gone downhill since my day!

Unfortunately, your newfound fame has also put you in great peril. You see, there’s already quite the bounty on your head, with all manner of gangs, syndicates and undesirables chomping at the bit to get their hands on you. My business partner has thus far been able to shoo away those trying to enter the hotel for unscrupulous purposes, but I fear that even she will soon reach the limits of her abilities. I suggest you stay away from the windows and keep to your quarters for now. Wouldn’t want you to end up zotzed after all the work I did piecing you back together!

I’ll be stopping by to see you this evening. In the meantime, please get some rest, and don’t take any wooden nickels!

Yours truly,

Alastor’

Dread snaked down her spine. After last night, she never wanted to be alone with him again.

 _But he’d been so kind,_ a small part of her whispered. _He helped you. He calmed you down. He even ki—_

 _No, no,_ no! _Monster! Demon! Evil! One good deed,_ she thought, _doesn’t erase decades of bad_. Besides, if it hadn’t been for his threat and transformation stunt, she wouldn’t have been out of her room in the first place. In a way, this whole thing was his fault to begin with.

“What’s it say?” Angel peered over her shoulder.

She buried her simmering discomfort deep. “I thought you could read cursive?”

“I can, but that ain’t cursive. Hell, that ain’t even English!”

_He must have put a spell on it…_

“It’s from Alastor. He says I’m all over the news.” The thought made her sick to her stomach. She was already shaken from last night’s violence (and the strange encounter with the Radio Demon that preceded it), the last thing she needed was more unwanted attention.

“Well, he’s undersellin’ it,” he said with a grin, pulling out his phone.

Rumors were spreading through the Infernet like wildfire: that she was the long-lost descendant of devil-worshipper Johan Georg Faust, come to follow in her however-many-greats grandfather’s footsteps, that she was the half-demon product of a Goetic prince’s forbidden tryst with a mortal, that she was actually an angel in disguise, sent by Heaven to try to overthrow Lucifer. Some of them bordered on the ridiculous, as she couldn’t see any way someone could watch the video and conclude she had some sort of secret magical powers, and in no universe was she ever interested in becoming a thruple with Charlie and Vaggie. The conspiracy theorists were out in full force, claiming it was all a hoax produced by the Impluminati to do… something or other, she couldn’t make much sense of it.

Social media was flooded with pictures of her bloodstained face and grainy cell phone footage of the incident, and demons were openly discussing whether she was more likely to end up on a dinner table in Cannibal Colony or in one of Porn Studio’s adult films. Sinners were covering themselves with fake blood, ketchup, basically anything red and re-creating the event with their friends in some sort of twisted challenge. The image of her broken body in Husk’s arms was photoshopped into all manner of movie posters and wild scenarios, and the sounds of screams and gunshots from last night had been remixed into several song parodies.

“You’ve gone viral, bitch!” 

“Oh my god…” she groaned, “I’m a _meme_.”

It was one thing to be an internet sensation on the surface: getting recognized in public, people making bank selling bootleg merch bearing your likeness, being hounded online by swarths of faceless strangers. But this was a totally different ballgame. She was a literal freak of nature, a cosmic aberration with a target on her back a mile wide.

And now every ghoul and ghastly creature in the Nine Circles knew where to find her.

“Enjoy ya 15 minutes while it lasts, toots.” He grabbed the phone and pulled her close with his spare set of arms. “Selfie!” The flash nearly blinded her, sending a sharp pain through her skull.

“Angel, what the fuck?!”

“What? I’m 20k followers under a million, this is gonna get me over the hump,” he said, already applying filters and adjusting the lighting in record time. While he looked decent, sporting a huge smile, she looked like she’d gone nine rounds with a professional boxer, covered in bruises and bandages.

“I look terrible, though!”

“You don’t gotta look good, ya just gotta look _alive_ ,” he said, typing out a quick caption.

“angie_fluffy_bootz: ‘She lived, bitch.’ – at the Hazbin Hotel #newhuman #iwokeuplikethis #newfriend #nomakeup #bffs”

_Oh, so_ now _he’d admit they were friends._

There was a rapid knocking at the door.

“She’s up, doll-face!” Angel called.

“Oh my goodness!” Niffty cried as she threw the door open, expertly balancing a tray in her free hand. “You look like such a mess! Just awful, really! And last night was a disaster!” She was talking a mile a minute, readily diving into the details of how destroyed the lobby was as she placed a cup of green tea and a bowl of what looked like rice porridge on her nightstand. As she chattered on Lee felt an unpleasant tightness growing in her chest, stomach churning as grasping claws and red-stained teeth flashed in her mind’s eye.

“Enough, Niff.” Angel crossed one pair of arms as he took Lee’s hand in his, giving her a comforting squeeze. “Yer gonna make the kid lose her appetite.”

“Sorry, that was rude,” Niffty said, eye downcast.

“It’s okay,” Lee said weakly, rubbing her temples.

“I made you some _okayu_ ,” she said, gesturing towards the lunch. “Mister Alastor said you hafta eat, even if you don’t wanna. We all want you to get better.”

 _Ah yes, Mister Alastor, so concerned for my wellbeing_ , she thought bitterly.

Recalling her tiny friend’s advice, she plastered on a fake grin. “I feel better already, thank you.” She took a small spoonful of porridge to seal the deal, choking it down in spite of her nausea.

“By the way,” Niffty gave her a shy smile, “can I have your autograph?”

“You _live_ with me, Niffty!” Lee said with genuine amusement. “I’m your friend, not some unapproachable starlet.”

“Yeah, but you’re all over TV now!” Sadness flickered across the little demon’s face. “You’ll be up and gone to Vollywood before we know it…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Niff.” Lee put a hand on her shoulder. “Besides, I’d consider myself more infamous than anything. Most celebrities don’t get people talking about how badly they want to _eat_ them.”

“Speak for ya’self,” Angel said with a wink. “I get all sortsa creepy fan mail.”

“Oooooh,” Niffty’s eye grew wide. “Now that you’re famous, are you gonna go make movies with Angel?” She gave her a toothy grin. “People on Voxblr are already drawing spicy fanart of you two!”

Lee nearly choked on her tea. “No!” they both cried, appalled.

“Niffty _, trust me_ ,” she said, feeling herself flush, “I have absolutely no interest in becoming an… _actor_ like Angel.”

“No offense, toots, but not even if I got paid triple.” Angel’s face twisted in disgust. “It’d be too weird.”

“Wow. I’m so hurt,” she deadpanned.

 _This is a fucking nightmare_ , she thought as she took another bite of her lunch. First her very existence had been turned into a joke, and now people were shipping her with an out-and-proud, flamboyantly gay porn star? She could’ve _died!_ Didn’t these people have any compassion?!

 _Well, they’re_ demons _, so I guess not..._

“Yeah, I don’t ship it,” Niffty said. “You guys are BroTP material, not OTP, and all the citrus I’ve seen has Angel being super OOC. Even the PWP one-shots are terrible.”

Lee was about to ask what “PWP” stood for when the hotel shook briefly.

“What was that?!”

“That’s my best bitch Cherri,” Angel said with a grin. “You stirred up a lotta trouble, and the streets have been runnin’ red. We were out all morning clearing some two-bit mobsters off Acheron Avenue.” He pulled up VoxTube, navigating to a feed titled ‘666 News Livestream.’ “Take a look.”

“—one saw that coming!” a short man in a gas mask said. “Now, let’s take a look back at the ongoing skirmishes in West Pentagram. Belthor, are you there?”

The feed cut away to shaky camera footage of an overgrown weasel in a tattered navy suit, hiding behind the burned-out shell of a truck.

“Tom, this type of widespread conflict in peacetime, especially so far from an Extermination, is simply unprecedented,” the weasel said. “I’m coming to you live from the Garment District, where a three-way battle between the Five Aces, Los Groseros Saltamontes and fiery young upstart Cherri Bomb has been raging since the early hours of the morning.”

The camera shifted, peeking out from behind the wreck. The street had been reduced to rubble, with trash, vehicles and a few not-quite-dead bodies all ablaze. Legs, tails, arms and bits of torso were scattered about like macabre confetti, the ground splattered with red and black blood. Grasshopper demons holding machine guns and machetes squared off against a group of ferocious looking tigers wielding sawed-off shotguns and nail-covered baseball bats, loping off limbs and crushing skulls. Something small and pink was tossed into the fray, and with a rumbling _BOOM_ the gangsters were reduced to paste. The shockwave knocked the cameraperson onto their back.

“Oh shit!” There was a rustling sound as the weaselly reporter picked up the camera. A small spiderweb of cracks in the lens spread across the image. “Uh, sorry for the technical difficulties, folks! We’re not exactly working under optimal conditions.”

"Well, that’s too fucking bad, isn’t it?” a female voice said chipperly.

“Right,” the reporter sighed, setting the camera up as best they could. “Anyway, this is just one of many battles raging in the region this morning as rumors of a new, unclaimed human residing at the nearby Hazbin Hotel circulated on social media. Power players and wannabe Overlords in West Pentagram have been pushing against each other ever since, trying to expand their territory to invade Princess Charlotte’s idiotic passion project. Local gangsters are using the chaos to stake new claims for themselves, and—”

The reporter was cut off as a bundle of lit dynamite skittered across the ground, landing at their feet.

_“MOTHERFU—”_

The screen went black as another small quake rippled through the hotel.

The stream cut back to the studio. “Wow, what a catastrophe!” Tom said. “That’s sure to impact some evening commutes, right Katie?”

“Total chaos!” a tall blonde with bright red eyes replied. “For those of you just joining us, we’re bringing you live, exclusive coverage of yet another disaster at Princess Charlotte Magne’s ‘rehabilitation center.’ This incident is one of many failures that have plagued the project, and one wonders just how badly she must have fucked up to have an unmarked human running wild.”

“She should send her over to me! I’d mark her for sure, if you know what I mean,” the sleazy man in a gasmask said.

“You really are a revolting pig, Tom!” Katie clapped him on the back, then slammed his head into the desk with enough force to knock over their coffee cups. He slumped off of his chair while she grinned at the camera, unphased.

“Hey, pigs are nice…” Angel grumbled. “Just because he’s a prick doesn’t mean—"

“Shush, Angel!” Lee hissed, trying to focus on the screen. It was already hard enough to concentrate thanks to her headache, she didn’t need any more distractions.

“…this morning’s news conference, where Princess Charlotte Magne first addressed the rumors.” They cut to an image of a frazzled-looking Charlie and an exhausted Vaggie standing in front of the splintered remains of the hotel’s double doors, surrounded by reporters.

“Princess Charlotte, how do you feel about the gang wars that have broken out this morning?” someone asked.

“Well, I hate to see such violence,” Charlie said, “but I’m dedicated to protecting my guests. This is supposed to be a safe place for all demons seeking redemption, and I’ll do whatever’s necessary to keep it that way.”

“Also,” Vaggie said, “the hotel is still property of the Magne family. So, unless you want to piss off the King of Hell, you’d better not try anything.”

“So, your father’s had a change of heart? Are you saying King Lucifer now supports your project?”

“Well—”

“Is it true the human was unbonded?” Charlie was saved from answering as another over-eager reporter jumped in.

“Yes, that’s true. While totum bonds are an ancient practice, it’s not one I support. If you’ll recall, I actually lobbied to outlaw them back during the Imp Rights movement.”

“A measure that totally failed—”

“Shut it!” Vaggie cut in. “Look, we have a hotel to run, so I’ll make things short. Yes, there was a human here, and yes, she was never marked, but none of that matters because like we told you, she’s _dead_. Go and print that, assholes.” She took her girlfriend by the arm, pulling her away while the throng of reporters shouted more questions.

“They told them I’m dead?” Lee’s blood ran cold.

The broadcast cut back to a delighted looking Katie. “But now we know that was a fucking _lie!_ ” she said, as the picture Angel took appeared next to her. “This photo, which was posted by notorious porn actor Angel Dust, appears to show that the human is in fact alive and still up for grabs! Sinners all over Hell are—”

The feed blipped away as an incoming call from an unknown number popped up onscreen.

“Fuckin’ telemarketers…” Angel grumbled. He dismissed the call, only to have the same number pop up again. And again. And again. Finally, he answered with an irate, “What the fuck do ya want?!”

His white face seemed to grow even paler as whoever was on the other line proceeded to chew him out. Lee couldn’t make out the words, but they sounded _pissed._

“Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean no disrespect…” he said sheepishly, then handed the phone to Lee. “It’s for you, kid.”

She took it cautiously. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this the human that’s all over the news this morning?” someone asked cheerily. They had the cadence and delivery of a talk show host, but their voice sounded slightly off, almost auto-tuned.

“Depends, who’s asking?”

There was tinny laughter from the other end of the line.

“The name’s Vox, baby, and I wanna make you a _star!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this chapter harder to write than I expected? Yes. Did I make it needlessly harder by injecting meta-commentary on fandom culture and the nature of celebrity? Also yes. I was feeling very pretentious and fourth-wall-break-y when I wrote this, ok? 
> 
> Still, what an intriguing turn of events, dear readers! Our heroine's been well and truly exposed now, and finds herself between a rock and a hard place. Be forewarned: there will be difficult situations and unexpected events ahead, and with our protagonist in such a vulnerable, emotional state, making the right decisions will be easier said than done. 
> 
> And we get a letter from our favorite gentleman bastard ~~who totally isn't out hunting down, eviscerating and erasing the demons that hurt Lee~~ hinting at a future visit! After the events of New Years, I'm sure you're just itching to see these two interact again. But be patient! We have a couple things to deal with next chapter first.
> 
> Feel free to sound off in the comments, and I'll see you all next week! <3


	29. Showbiz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroine receives an intriguing offer as tensions inside the hotel flare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super happy that last chapter got such a great reception! So happy, in fact, that I'm posting this one a bit early! Enjoy!
> 
> No specific content warnings, but on the off chance any of you are emetophobic, then proceed with caution.

“I take it you’ve heard of me?” the man asked through the receiver.

“Uh, yeah,” Lee replied. How could she _not_ know who Vox was? He seemed to own most of the TV channels, hosted all the popular shows, and he starred in every commercial for 3V Media and their subsidiaries.

“Great! That means we can skip the small talk and get right down to the nitty-gritty,” Vox said. “Now, what did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t. You can call me Lee.”

“And how long have you been down here?”

She did the mental math. “A little over three months.”

“Hot damn!” he said, sounding delighted. “Well, I’m sure you got all kinds of oddballs and sleazebags beating down your door, but I’m gonna give it to you straight: as far as anyone can tell, you’ve broken the record as far as surviving in Hell without a bonding mark goes. You don’t have a bonding mark, do you?”

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“Never mind, then. All I’m saying is you’re a hot commodity, and I wanna know if you’d be interested in a career in showbiz! My social media partner says you’re already a phenomenon, and viewers all across Hell are _dying_ to get to know you. I know this business like the back of my hand, and I’m telling you, if you decide to sign on with me, you’ll have it made in the shade.” 

“Um… you mean like the stuff Angel does?” She shot a glance to her spidery friend, who shook his head vigorously.

“No, no, no! That’s more my business partner’s forte,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m talking interviews, soap opera cameos, maybe even a movie role. That’s in addition to your own show, of course.”

“My own show?” she asked. Niffty’s eye grew wide.

“Yep, airing at 9 AM on Saturdays! Co-hosted by me, of course, but you’d still have some degree of creative control.”

Oh, _hell no_. The last thing she needed was more publicity.

“Well, that’s a really kind offer and all,” she said, trying to be polite, “but I don’t think the entertainment industry is for me. So unfortunately, I’m going to have to—"

“Now just hold on a minute there, doll,” he cut her off. “Don’t go looking a gift horse in the mouth. You’re in a very precarious position right now, to be frank, and you could use someone like me in your corner. And your contract with 3V Media comes with many perks! Healthcare, valet parking, 24-hour security, access to our collection of rare and ancient relics, dental…”

“Did you say relics?”

“Oh yes! We’ve amassed quite a few thanks to our Indiana Bones series and Antiques Sideshow. Grimoires, legendary weapons, carvings depicting eldritch abominations that mortals cannot fully comprehend, we’ve got it all!”

Lee paused. Her research on getting out of Hell had made frustratingly little progress, and given last night’s events, she had no plans to use Alastor’s library ever again. New resources to tap into could be exactly what she needed to finally get home.

“…can I have some time to think about it?”

There was a buzz of what sounded like interference on the other line, a squealing noise that rattled her eardrums before Vox finally responded. She winced, holding the phone away from her ear as her head throbbed.

“Sure, doll,” he said, sounding far too chipper, “But keep in mind this is a limited-time offer! And given that you’re already on limited time, I’d make up my mind quick. The spider slut should have my number, so just give me a call when you’re ready to sign. I look forward to working with you!”

“I—”

“Buh-bye now!”

The line went dead.

“Whaddaya mean ya want ‘time to think about it’?” Angel snatched his phone back. “You’re not seriously considerin’ a contract with them, are ya?!”

“No,” she said, “I was just trying to be polite.” That was half-true, at least.

He gave her a long, hard look. “Good. Those guys are bad news, trust me. You sign with them, they own you, period. And there ain’t no gettin’ out of it.” There was a flash of panic in his eyes, but he shook it off. “’Sides, ya don’t need their protection. You got Charlie fuckin’ Magne lookin’ out for ya, and I’m a damn good shot myself. And have you seen the claws on Husky? He’ll—”

“ANGEL WHAT THE _FUCK_ DID YOU DO?!?”

His words died on his lips as a furious Vaggie barreled into the room. Her hair was disheveled, half falling out of her loose bow, and she looked ragged.

“What were you two thinking?!” she cried. “You just ruined our whole media strategy!”

“The fuck are you talkin’ about?”

She looked at him incredulously. “The plan! The one we went over this morning?!”

“Not ringin’ any bells, babe.”

“You—fuckin—you were _right there!_ ”

Lee buried her head in her hands, stomach churning. Why was everyone yelling?

“I remember!” Niffty piped up. “You said you thought pretending Lee died was dumb, which was really rude.”

Recognition finally flashed in his eyes. “Oh shit, you guys were bein’ serious?”

 _"YES!”_ The irate demoness turned to Lee. “And _you!_ Do you have any idea how much shit you stirred up?!”

The haggard human picked her head up. “I’m sor—”

“What the hell were you doing out of your room last night anyway?! We’ve put this entire project on hold to keep you safe, given you a job and a place to stay, and this is how you repay us? By sneaking around and getting cozy with that radio creep?!”

“Hey!” Angel glared. “Leave her outta this!”

 _“Shut up!”_ she snapped. “The lobby’s in shambles, our potential investors got scared off, and Charlie’s been on the phone all morning, trying to negotiate peace deals with practically every kingpin and gang in the entire fucking Circle, all because you two decided getting _drunk_ was more important than keeping everyone safe!”

“I was tryin’ ta cheer her up! Ain’t that virtuous fuckin’ behavior?!”

“It was _selfish!”_

Angel balled his fists at his side. “Oh, don’t get all high and mighty on me, bitch! If you were so worried about her gettin’ discovered, ya shouldn’t’ve invited a buncha crime lords and rich assholes to come party in the first place!”

Lee could practically see the steam pour out of Vaggie’s ears. _“_ _¡Vete a la chingada, pinche araña estupida!”_

_“Vaffanculo, fottuta stronza arrogante!”_

It was all too much for her. They were too loud, and the room was too bright, swirling as her stomach twisted into knots and saliva pooled in her mouth and… _oh_ _no._

Panicked, she pushed herself off the bed, legs burning as she made a beeline for the bathroom. She tried to make it to the toilet but had barely gotten to the sink when the remains of her lunch re-surfaced. Sweat broke out on her forehead as she heaved and shook, her throat burning as her stomach emptied itself. Tears and snot soon followed as she sank to the cool tile floor, her nightgown now splattered with stains.

“Now look what ya fuckin’ did!” Angel griped as he knelt beside her, scooping the smaller human up in his arms. “Ya made the poor kid sick!”

“I di—” Vaggie paused, then scowled. “Y’know what? It’s not fucking worth it.” She turned away, white-knuckled fists at her side. “Charlie can deal with this bullshit herself, cuz I am fucking _done_.” The sound of a slamming door signaled her retreat.

Lee sat as her stomach settled, wallowing in misery as Angel held her. He looked like he was trying his best to be comforting, but seeing her throw up had made him a little green around the gills himself, and he had to tap out. It was Niffty who coaxed a cup of water down her sore throat, who busied herself with cleaning as she drank in the cool stillness of the bathroom, who went to fetch Charlie and Husk while she washed the sick off of herself and changed.

“How ya feeling, Lee?” Charlie asked, a worried look on her painted face as she peeked into the semi-darkness of the lamp-lit room.

“Like a million bucks,” she said, trying to muster a bit of humor to put the princess at ease. If Vaggie had looked bad, Charlie was ten times worse, with flyaway curls and tangles sticking out of her normally neat hairdo and deep purple circles under her eyes. She was still dressed in her tux from last night, albeit with the addition of a few new tears and holes.

“Yeah, and I’m the King of France,” Husk grumbled as he gestured for her to sit on the bed, setting his med bag on the floor.

“I’m sorry Charlie,” Lee said, voice wavering slightly. “About last night and Angel’s picture and everything.”

“Oh, don’t you worry!” she replied with a forced grin. “I’ve made some phone calls and paid some bribes. You should still be safe here. After all, we pride ourselves on safety and security here at the Hazbin Hotel!” The impromptu sales-pitch was delivered with more than a hint of desperation.

“How’s she gonna be safe if we still ain’t got front doors?” the cat muttered as he peeled off Lee’s bandages, inspecting her stitched wounds.

“How did they know?” Lee asked, stifling a painful hiss as Husk poked a sore spot. “How did they know I was here?”

“We still don’t know,” Charlie said with a frown. “Someone must have seen you in the window one day, and they passed the information on to the highest bidder. And there could’ve been lots of high bidders.” The blonde took a seat next to her, leaving more room for Husk to inspect the injuries on her legs. “Vaggie and I checked the guest list last night, and while no one there had the resources to cast a dissipation rune themselves, at least half the attendees had ties to syndicates and Overlords who theoretically could’ve.”

“’S like findin’ a needle in a haystack, kid.” Husk said as he unwound the bandages on her calf. The bite she’d sustained had started to shrink, with new, shiny scar tissue filling in at the edges. The burgundy symbols of the sigil Alastor had drawn were still visible, and she felt a twinge of worry.

“Is that… permanent?”

“Nah,” Husk said, “It fades as ya heal. The string bean’s used ‘em on me a couple a times.”

“Ok good… good…” she trailed off. Cold humiliation ran through her veins as she recalled their encounter in his little shadow bubble. He’d seen her at her absolute lowest, broken down and desperate, haunted by ghosts of her past, and he must despise her for her weakness. The thought hurt, strangely enough. Oh, she hated him, she was sure of it, especially after seeing his true form and getting a taste of his bloodlust, but the idea of him thinking lesser of her still stung.

Idly, she ran a finger across her forearm, tracing the fresh, thin scar that marked where he’d first drawn blood.

_Where his lips had brushed against her skin._

_No! No_ , she thought, _we’re_ not _going to dwell on that now_. Whatever he’d meant by that gesture (if there even was a deeper meaning), it surely was far from romantic. Knowing him, it had just been another way to torment her, to toy with the strange feelings that had begun to bloom in her before he’d shown his true colors once more. And now she had a permanent reminder of the kind of monster he truly was, forever etched into her.

_Forever marked…_

“Charlie, what’s a bonding mark?” she asked as Husk wrapped a fresh bandage around her leg. “I heard them ask you about it on the news.”

“It’s an ancient and barbaric practice,” the princess replied with obvious disgust. “They’re a side-effect of a totum bond, used to seal humans to demons in both body and soul.”

“Normally when a mortal makes a deal with a demon,” she continued, “their debt is paid upon their death, when their soul comes into the possession of the dealmaker. However, if a demon is powerful enough, they can trick a human into forging a totum bond, sealing them into their service in both life _and_ death. From there, they’re either forced to do the wicked bidding of their masters on the surface or dragged down to Hell to be tortured and used as their owners see fit. And when they do eventually die, they end up right back at their master’s feet, with no escape from their torment. It’s horrible…” Charlie shook her head. “I tried to get the practice outlawed, but I couldn’t get enough support to petition the Ars Goetia, let alone the Infernal Council.”

“Eternal slavery…” Lee breathed.

“But you don’t have to worry about that. I ordered Alastor to help me guard the lobby tonight, and the new doors and private security detail get here tomorrow morning. They’re bringing in Hellhounds, armed guards, barricades, anti-aircraft missiles, the whole nine yards.” She paused. “The only thing is…”

Her chest seized with worry. “What?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but money’s been getting a little tight,” she said, biting her lip nervously, “and we were already in the red this month. I don’t want to have to ask Alastor for a loan, for obvious reasons, so we’re going to have to cut down on expenses. That means we can’t pay you, at least for a while. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s– _OW!_ –all?” She yelped as Husk ripped off a bandage, startling her.

“Would ya quit whinin’?!” he snapped. “I’m tryin’ to work here!”

“Sorry…” she muttered. “Jeez, who pissed in your cornflakes?”

“ _You_ did! Yer little ‘show’ destroyed my damn bar, broke every last bottle! I’m soberin’ up for the first time in a decade thanks to you, kid, and I’m starting to get a helluva hangover.”

“Like I said, we’re all making sacrifices right now,” Charlie said with a sigh. “But we’re all tough. We’ll get through it.”

Even as Husk attended her with a bedside manner that could most charitably described as “abrasive,” Lee began to space out, carrying on half-hearted small talk with the princess as her irate nurse changed her bandages and checked her for signs of infection.

 _Well, now you’ve done it,_ an angry voice hissed in her head. _Causing problems for everyone yet again. You can’t do anything right. No wonder everyone hates you._

 _No, it’s not my fault,_ she whispered back, albeit half-heartedly. _They like me, they want me to be here!_ Melancholy brewed in her belly as she tried to silence her inner insecurities.

 _Nobody wants you,_ the voice replied. _All you do is annoy people and make messes you can’t clean up. The only one who wants anything to do with you is Alastor, and even then, he only wants you for your blood. He just wants to use you, just like T—_

 _NO!_ Another wave of nausea rolled through her. _We are_ not _thinking of him! He’s_ nothing _like him!_

 _Look at you,_ the voice sneered. _You’re so desperate to connect with someone that you’re defending a murderous demon. Pathetic._

“Well, you still look terrible,” Husk grumbled, shaking her out of her daze as he packed up the rest of his medical supplies. “But yer gettin’ better. Looks like the red bastard’s magic bullshit did the trick.”

“I’m so sorry, Charlie,” Lee said, her throat growing tight. “This is all my fault…”

“Nonsense.” The princess hugged her gently, careful not to press against her many bruises. Lee clung to her like a lost child, burying her face in her tattered lapel.

“I should leave,” she mumbled. “You’d be better off without me…”

“Hey!” Charlie pulled back. “Hey, don’t say that, hon. You’ll always be welcome here, no matter what shit those other demons throw at us. The Hazbin Hotel never turns away a needy soul.”

“But—”

“No buts,” she said firmly. “We’re not gonna let those assholes out there drive you away. And Vaggie and I are going to do everything we can to find whoever did this to you.” She looked her square in the eyes. “I know you’re scared, but I promise you, as long as you stay inside the hotel, you’ll be safe.”

After one last, lingering embrace, the two of them finally departed, leaving Lee alone with her thoughts again. While she’d appreciated Charlie’s kind words, they’d done little to soothe her worries. From the very start she’d struggled with feeling like a burden, what with her untimely arrival derailing the hotel’s grand plans for redemption. Working with Niffty had helped, as she felt like she was at least contributing something, but now she couldn’t even do that, at least for a while. And now that she’d caused a spectacle that attracted all the wrong types of attention, she got the distinct feeling she’d begun to overstay her welcome, at least in Vaggie’s eyes.

 _Unwanted,_ her inner demons hissed, _a loser, a failure._

_Weak._

She curled up in bed, a heavy weight on her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone order some more angst? No? Just me? Oh well. 
> 
> The plot thickens! With Vox's offer on the table, her own feelings out of whack and the situation as the hotel worsening by the day, our poor protagonist finds herself at an impasse as we approach the tail end of Act One. Stretched thin and still recovering, will she walk through the fire and come out stronger? Or will she cave under pressure, collapsing like a house of cards? Only time will tell, dear readers! And let's not forget that a certain someone (who finds himself conflicted in an entirely different manner) still has her in his crosshairs...
> 
> More Al and Lee content is on the menu for next week! Predictions as to how their reunion will go are always welcome... ;) 
> 
> Also! I've come to the realization that I never gave you all a bio regarding our dear heroine! I've kept the text intentionally vague as I know some of you are reading this as a self-insert, and I'm perfectly happy with that! So happy, in fact, that I'll continue to keep things vague as the story progresses, because in this house we do not break immersion with (h/c), (e/c), (y/n) and so forth. 
> 
> That being said, Lee is a real, actual OC I've developed, so just in case anyone is curious, I'm providing a short bio/character reference below. However, you are more than welcome to _ignore the following_ should you so choose! This story is your oyster, and you all are lovely pearls of readers I wish to keep happy and entertained.
> 
> Read on if you want to, if not, I'll see you next week! <3
> 
>   
> 
> 
> **Character Sheet: Lee**
> 
> **Real Name:** Agnes Marie McIntyre, but everyone calls her Lee. Don't call her Aggie though, she hates it! Named after her great-grandmother, who raised her father after his parents died in a car crash during his youth.
> 
>  **Birthday:** July 3rd; only child.
> 
>  **Hometown:** Youngstown, Ohio, USA
> 
>  **Background:** Half-Scottish (father's side), half Tejana (mother's side). Father was born and raised in Scotland and emigrated to the USA for work, so she has dual US and UK citizenship.
> 
>  **Religion:** Raised Christian, not very religious though.
> 
>  **Identity:** Cisgender woman, heteromantic grey-asexual/questioning (she thinks, but this is a complicated question for her due to her trauma history)
> 
>  **Languages:** English, a bit of Spanish because of school and her mother's side of the family, but it's really bad.
> 
>  **Appearance:** 5 ft 6 in (169 cm), medium build, a bit chubby. Dark brown, wavy hair, a little past her shoulders with bangs. Brown eyes, a few freckles. Nose is slightly crooked due to breaking it when she was in elementary school. Scar on her right knee from playing soccer, now joined by several other scars due to her attack and favor from Alastor. 
> 
> **Favorites:** Favorite color is yellow, favorite foods are pizza and apple pie, favorite movies are action and sci-fi, likes murder mystery books. Likes all kinds of music but her favorite by far is 80s music, especially pop, glam rock and hair metal from that era. Favors oversized sweaters in the winter and loose cotton sundresses in the summer, but jeans and a t-shirt are her uniform most days.
> 
>  **Best Friend:** Talia Nguyen, an artsy, musical-loving free spirit who helps pull her out of her bouts of melancholy and see the fun side of life. 
> 
> **Bio:** A stubborn, spunky girl with a heart of gold, Lee moved to New York City after graduating from college with hopes of starting her career, but instead found herself stuck in a dead-end retail job, barely scraping by. Her compassion causes her to be a bit naïve at times, and she tries to follow the philosophy of "do no harm but take no shit." She is a sexual assault survivor, and tends to be protective even over people she doesn't know well, which can lead to her spreading herself too thin. She often struggles with feelings of loneliness, isolation and inadequacy, and finds herself longing for both connection and safety. Now that she's been thrust into such a hostile, foreign world, she'll do anything to get back to the surface. 
> 
> I hope the half dozen of you that actually read this found it interesting lmao. See you next week! :D


	30. A Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee encounters Alastor for the first time since her attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, our main coupling face each other once more! Plus, a special thank-you to all of last week's new commenters, y'all are very sweet and made my day!
> 
> Also!!! Helluva Boss Episode 3 came out this week, and in addition to being hilarious and beautifully animated, it confirmed some of the ideas that I had for the future of this story as feasible within canon!!! I know that fanfic is predicated on breaking canon, but still, it was nice to see some of the ideas I had hold water. A few need adjusting, but I think I have enough wiggle room still to make 'em work. I'm very excited! :D

.

..

…

Warm.

It was so warm and dark, and she didn’t hurt.

The sound of… something. She couldn’t make it out.

Fingers carding through her hair, steady and slow and _wonderful._ Was she dreaming?

Yes, she must be, for where else would she find such affection, such care? She leaned into the gentle hand of her imaginary lover, her sleep-muddled mind conjuring kind eyes and sweet kisses, whispered words of adoration and arms that held her close, warm and snug and safe. The phantom fingers continued their movements, adding a hint of nail that scraped delightfully against her scalp, and she shivered, a small sigh escaping her. That repetitive sound tickling her ears was joined by a low, soft chuckle.

She could lie here forever.

A click. Pink behind her eyelids.

_Who turned the light on?_

She snuggled deeper into her pillow, grumbling as the lovely feeling of being touched disappeared. Was it time for school already? She didn’t want to get up, to have to leave her cozy bed and drag herself into the kitchen for breakfast, especially when she’d been having such a pleasant dream.

“Darling…” a voice cooed.

“Fi’ mo minutes, Ma,” she mumbled, still half-asleep.

The sound, _music_ , she registered, was clearer now. The melody was familiar, but the instrument less so. It was high pitched and tinkling, repeating a string of notes in an endless loop.

_Almost like a…_

“It’s time to wake up, cher.”

Lee blinked her bleary eyes in the harsh lamplight, then gasped as her gaze sharpened and fell on the man perched beside her. Adrenaline singed her veins as she scrambled backwards, her back knocking against the headboard.

“Sweetheart, relax! It’s just me,” Alastor said, holding up his hands beseechingly. “I—”

He was cut off as a pillow smacked him straight in the face.

 _“HELP ME! HELP!”_ she screamed.

“Calm down, I—”

“ _CHARLIE!!! VAGGIE!!! AN_ —mmmph!” A snap of his fingers and her mouth sealed shut. Her pulse hammered in her ears as she kicked at him, trying to inflict as much damage as possible while she attempted to clamber out of bed.

“No, no, stop that,” he scolded. “You’ll rip out your stitches!”

“ _Mmph mmm!”_ Another harsh kick backward, then something cold and smooth wrapped around her legs, binding them together. She flopped on her belly like a fish, struggling and trying to pull herself forwards. Something grabbed her by the shoulders and she writhed, screaming soundlessly as she was flipped onto her back, her arms pinned at her sides.

“Be _still!”_ His eyes blazed as he loomed over her, his smile more of a snarl as he straddled her hips. She froze as she became aware of the burning in her lungs, the ache in her legs, the feeling of the metal nails of his gloves digging lightly into the soft skin of her wrists.

“My dear,” he said, slightly breathless, “you need to calm down. We have important matters to discuss, and I’m afraid _this_ ,” his gaze flitted up and down, taking in their awkward position, “is not conducive to productive conversation.”

_…was he blushing?_

“Now, are you going to continue your hysterics, or can we talk like civilized people?”

She nodded frantically, willing him to _get off her_ as a strange, nervous fluttering awakened in her chest.

“Excellent.” He disappeared in a blink of an eye, as did her restraints. She took a painful, shuddering breath as she sat up, scooching as far away from him as possible. The music box’s melody slowed and finally stopped, its lid snapping shut.

“What a way to greet the man who saved your life! Good thing I already proofed this blasted room…” he muttered, brows furrowing in irritation as he sat down on a newly-conjured armchair. “No good deed goes unpunished, I suppose.”

She looked at him incredulously.

“I brought you some dinner,” he said, gesturing to a small plate of toast and a bowl of applesauce on her nightstand. “Dear Niffty said you weren’t feeling very well earlier, so see if you can keep this down.”

“Why the fuck are you in my room?” she asked shakily.

“I knocked several times, but you sleep like the dead, precious,” he said, a grim smile on his face. “Believe it or not, I was deliberately trying _not_ to frighten you. I’m well aware I’m still a _persona non grata_ in your eyes, for whatever reason.”

Anger rose in her as she clutched at her bedsheets with white-knuckled fists. The _nerve_ of this man!

“You _drank_ my _fucking blood_ ,” she said through gritted teeth.

“To save you, yes. It gave me the energy I needed to mend your wounds. Had I not, you certainly would have died.”

“You threatened to _slaughter_ everyone!”

“I have made no secret of my nature. My reputation is well-earned. Besides, you needed to be reprimanded for your lascivious infractions.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t usually carry out such discipline by proxy, so perhaps a bit of gratitude is in order.”

“You strung me along for _weeks!_ You made me feel like you actually wanted to be around me, that you were going to let me in! And then after you tore that all apart, after you cut me open and _liked_ it, you _ki—_ ” She stopped short, feeling heat rise on her face.

He raised an eyebrow. “Care to finish that sentence?” he asked with a grin, dropping his radio voice.

“Never mind,” she muttered. “Asshole…”

“I was honest with you, you know,” he said, his expression softening a tad. “About myself, about my past. I gave you a rare gift, Lee.”

She did her best to ignore the way her stomach flipped when he said her name. “All to try to lure me in, to get me to make a deal!”

“You’re partially correct, I suppose,” he said with a shrug. “But I could have drawn you in with lies just as easily as the truth.” He shifted, crossing his legs. “I’ll admit, you’re a tougher nut to crack than I expected, but I’m sure I would’ve convinced you eventually. I’m _very_ good at what I do, after all.”

“And you’re so modest, too,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Is that why you’re here? To try to ‘convince’ me?”

“Yes and no. I’ve also come to attend to you, darling. That was quite a tussle you found yourself in, and I’m keen to see you make a speedy recovery.”

She crossed her arms. “Husk already took care of me.”

“Forgive me if I feel the work of a man who spends most of his days blind drunk needs double checking,” he said. “Now, come here and have some dinner. You need to eat, sweetheart.”

She shook her head, even as her stomach growled in protest.

“So headstrong,” he tutted. “Do you require assistance getting up? Or should I come sit by you, then?” He began to rise out of his chair.

“No!” she said a little too quickly. “No, no, just… stay there.”

Swallowing hard, she cautiously made her way to the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on him, afraid that he would lunge at her. She winced as she swung her legs over the side, inadvertently pulling something. Snatching a piece of toast from the plate, she took a cautious nibble.

“Let’s have a look at you.” He reached for her and she flinched, leaning away. “Dearest,” he said with a sigh, “if we’re to keep up appearances I can’t have you shrinking away from me at every opportunity.”

“And why the hell would I care about that?” she asked between bites. It wasn’t the most luxurious meal, but the toast was crunchy, and the applesauce was nice and sweet with a hint of cinnamon.

“To be frank, your tenancy here is on rather shaky grounds, at least in Vagatha’s eyes. Or eye, I should say.” He laughed lightly at his little quip. “If she were to discover my intentions, let alone the details of our little… _encounter_ , she would surely convince dear Charlotte that you and the other residents would both be safer if you went elsewhere. I’m sure you’d prefer to continue your stay here, rather than at one of my estates.”

She nearly dropped her spoon. “What do you mean, _your_ estates?”

“Do you really think I’d leave you to the cruelty of the streets? Or let them deliver you into the hands of Lucifer?” He shook his head. “No, no. I’m not going to lose you that easily, my dear.”

His possessive language made her bristle. “You say that as if you’re my only option.”

“Am I not?” He cocked his head to the side. “You’d enjoy it, I promise you. The _château_ has a lovely rose garden, and the cabin is quite charming, if a bit more rustic. You’d have to keep to the grounds, of course, but it would be a nice change of pace, don’t you think?”

_Trading one cage for another…_

She swallowed her last bite of toast. “I got a call from Vox today.”

A cacophony of sound somewhere between a record scratch and nails on a chalkboard burst from him as his expression darkened. His eyes morphed into spinning radio dials as he dug his fingers into the armchair, gouging long slashes with his metal nails. Reality flickered in and out around him, freezing her blood in her veins.

“ _Did_ you now?” he asked, a ferocious grin on his face. “And what did that flat-faced, vain excuse of a man say?”

“He offered me a contract with 3V Media. Wants to put me on TV, make money off me that way,” she said, fighting the urge to look away as the hairs on the back of her neck raised in alarm. “I told him I’d think about it.”

“And will you?” he asked, voice gritty with anger, his eye twitching slightly. “'Think about it,' that is?”

She paused. “Yes,” she said finally, “He said he has relics, books that might help me finally get home, as well as security to keep me safe.” She glared at him, her irritation granting her a moment of boldness. “And _he_ didn’t say anything about wanting to drink my _blood_.”

He took a deep breath, his smile faltering as he leaned forwards slightly, pressing his palms together. The distortions around him stilled and faded, and she relaxed slightly.

“My dear girl,” he said firmly, “do _not_ make a deal with him. He’s a liar and a cheat who cares for nothing but himself.”

She snorted. “And you’re not?”

“I’m a far more scrupulous businessman than he is, and I’ve always been honest regarding my intentions towards you, cher.” His eyes narrowed. “That’s far more than you’ll ever get from that fucking television and his ilk.”

“Well, I—” she stopped short. “Wait, did you just _swear?!”_

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“I didn’t think you _could_ swear,” she said. “I figured if you tried, it’d come out all… censored or something.”

“I reserve profanity for only the most deserving occasions and talk of that man certainly warrants it.” He leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the ruined armrest. “I loathe him. He’s an arrogant, narcissistic bastard.”

She laughed bitterly. “Pot, kettle, black.”

“Regardless, were you to sign that contract, it would certainly be the end of you. He’d drain you dry on live television, make a spectacle of your torment. Or he’d auction you off to the highest bidder, never to be seen again.” His smile was more of a grimace. “There are fates worse than death, especially down here, my darling.”

A flash of panic made her stomach churn. _Worse than death…_

“But let’s not dwell on that for now,” he said, peeling off his gloves. “Let me check your temperature, dear.” He gently pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, lingering there. “No fever, that’s a good sign. Tell me, have you had any shortness of breath, rashes, chills, tightening skin, seizures, bouts of temporary blindness, growth of any extra limbs…”

Her nausea strengthened as he rattled off a list of more and more disturbing symptoms.

“Um… it hurts to breathe a little,” she said.

He cocked his head at her. “I see. Only mild side effects, then.”

“Side effects?” she asked, a twinge of fear evident in her voice.

“All magic has a price,” he said. “Even healing spells. After all, one can have too much of a good thing.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “It appears you’re tougher than I thought, though, so I can afford to speed things along a bit more.”

She blinked and he disappeared. The mattress sank down behind her as his fingers came to rest on top of her head, his warm breath tickling the back of her neck.

“What are you doing?!” she asked, feeling panic rise in her.

“Healing you, of course!” he replied. “I’ll be performing the same spell as before.” He seemed to sense her discomfort, however, as he added: “Don’t fret. This time the pain won’t be as severe, and I won’t need any… extra assistance from you.”

“I—” she stuttered, “I don’t think I’d be comfortable…” She trailed off, worried she might anger him. “Is that… okay? Please?”

He made a few clicking sounds, as if processing her words. His fingers left her head, and she flinched as he reached around and took her smaller hand in his, squeezing lightly.

“Of _course_ it’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, his tone gentle and reassuring. “I just thought I’d offer.” His thumb rubbed soothing circles over the back of her hand and a tiny, lonely part melted, savoring the warmth of his skin against hers. “Thank you for telling me, darling.”

Another blink and he was back in the chair in front of her. He waved his hand and the dirty dishes on her nightstand were replaced by a few glass containers: a small jar full of blue-green candy, a pot of light-yellow cream, and some pink pills.

“I took the liberty of stopping by the apothecary for you,” he said. “Peppermint lozenges for your stomach, lemon balm salve for your sore muscles, and some willow and ginger capsules for aches and pains. All natural, save for a spell or two. They’ll help ease some of your discomfort as you recover.” He shook a couple candies into his hand. “Here, try one.”

She hesitated.

“Look.” He dropped a lozenge into his mouth, sucking lightly. “They’re fine, see?”

She gingerly took a candy from his outstretched hand and examined it closely. It didn’t _look_ poisonous, at least. She gave it a tentative lick, and after tasting nothing but a sweet, minty coolness and a bit of an herbal bite, she popped the lozenge into her mouth.

“There we go,” he said softly. “That should help settle you. If you run out, let me know and I’ll fetch you some more.” His hand came to rest on her knee. “Now, I recall you sustaining a rather nasty bite. May I see it?” She nodded and he patted the arm of his chair. “Up, please.” A momentary pause and she lifted her leg, setting her heel down there.

She examined him as he unwound the bandages around her calf. How could this man and the monster from last night be one in the same? Was it all still an act? Or was there a kernel of genuine concern there? Confusion crackled between her temples as the same hands that had torn thousands to pieces touched her with such gentleness, static dancing across her tender skin.

“Healing nicely,” he noted, tracing the sigil he’d drawn. A snap and her leg was expertly wrapped once more. “Next on the agenda are your stomach and shoulder, but I suspect you’d prefer a more feminine touch there. Umbra!”

Wide white eyes appeared on the floor, rising into a tall, familiar shadow.

“Tend to her, please.” He carefully set her leg back down, then twirled his fingers _._ The chair spun around, sliding a few feet away. “Thank you!” he said, now facing the opposite wall.

“Uh, hi…” Lee said, eyeing the creature. “How ya been?”

Umbra shrugged. She gestured towards her shirt, her stubby arm growing fingers.

"Oh! Oh, yeah, sure.” The shadow helped her out of it, and she stifled a groan as her shoulder burned, angry at her for raising her arm up too high. Umbra’s eyes grew wide at the array of bruises and bandages that littered her torso.

“I promise, it looks worse than it feels,” she said, trying to reassure her.

“Ah, ah!” Alastor called. “Nobody likes a liar, sweetheart!”

Umbra cocked her head at her. She pointed at Alastor’s chair, then to the stitched gash on her stomach.

“Huh?” Lee asked. The shadow gestured to her wounds. Her fingers elongated into sharp claws and she mimed a slashing motion, then pointed back to where Alastor sat.

“Oh!” she said, then lowered her voice. “No, he didn’t do this.” Umbra gave her a long, hard look. “I promise,” she added.

She shivered as Umbra tended to her wounds, her cold hands leaving trails of goosebumps. Occasionally she’d glide over to Alastor and make what could best be described as something between a purr and a growl, and he’d respond by conjuring a new bandage, or a tub of cream, or with further instructions on how tight to re-wrap her and what to take care of next. She had a few injuries on her thighs that she also let the shadow tend to, shimmying out of her shorts with some difficulty. Her silent bedside manner was a welcome change from Husk’s hungover grumblings, and Lee felt a trickle of relief at her concern for her. It seemed even she was aware of the temperamental, dual nature of her master.

At last, the shadow was satisfied, helping her back into her clothes.

“Thank you,” she said. Umbra’s white eyes crinkled happily.

“That’ll be all, thank you, Umbra.” Alastor said.

The shadow nodded, then hesitated. She pointed at Lee, then at Alastor’s chair, a concerned look on her face. She reached up, tracing a few large, invisible letters in the air.

“OKAY?”

It took Lee a moment to connect the dots. “I’ll be alright,” she said finally. Unsatisfied, the shadow flitted over to Alastor once more, growling with more urgency. She leaned in as Alastor whispered something Lee couldn’t make out, then turned back to her.

“SAFE,” she wrote.

A bit of the tension in her muscles dissipated. “Promise?” she whispered. The shadow nodded vigorously.

“Are you decent, cher?” Alastor asked.

“Um, yeah,” she said. Umbra gave her a thumbs-up, melting back into the floor as Alastor’s chair swiveled around.

“Excellent. There’s one more thing I wish to discuss with you, if you’ll so indulge me.” He leaned back, steepling his fingers under his chin. “In light of recent events, have you given any more thought to my offer?”

 _Ah, here it is,_ she thought. _The_ real _reason he’s here._ She scolded herself internally for thinking for even a moment that his concern was genuine.

“Last night changes nothing. I’m still not making a deal with you.”

“You’re starting to sound like a broken record, my dear!” His eyes glittered with delight. “But I urge you to reconsider. You’ve got all sorts of loathsome sinners just itching to get their hands on you. So far, the hotel has only faced unorganized attacks from impulsive ne’er-do-wells. What do you think will happen when they start coordinating their efforts, when they come with reinforcements?” He grinned. “Like it or not, you need me, little darling.”

“I don’t need you!” she spat. “Charlie said she would protect me, Angel said he’d watch my back!”

“Hah! You trust the word of a hopped-up patsy who abandoned you in a ballroom full of demons?”

“Charlie is Lucifer’s daughter! She probably has more power in her little finger than all you Overlords combined!”

“Perhaps,” he mused. “But how many times have you seen her actually use it?” He smirked. “The princess is trusting and has a well-known penchant for pacifism, or at least what passes for pacifism down here. All it would take is for her to put her faith in the wrong person, to leave you alone for one moment, and someone could swoop in and snatch you away. You’d be dead before she even realized you were gone.”

“And what about you?” she challenged him, her simmering anger granting her courage. “You’re only one man! What makes you think you could do any better, you jackass?!”

“Reputation!” He leapt to his feet, flinging his arms wide as his armchair dissolved into static. “I am the infamous Radio Demon! Whereas the princess is ridiculed and derided despite her power and status, I am treated with trepidation and avoided at all costs, even though I am but a mortal soul!” He cocked his head at her. “Should you decide to accept my offer, no one would dare lay a hand on you, lest they invoke my ire.”

“I’m not buying it.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m simply stating the facts.” He smiled, stepping closer. “You want to feel safe, don’t you? You don’t want to worry anyone, to be a burden. I assure you, sweetheart, there’s no safer place for you than at my side.” Another step. “I can show you a different side of Hell, protect you as you venture outside these walls. I can take you dancing, to the theater, show you the finest entertainment of every kind! All you’d have to do is shake my hand.”

She shook her head. “I don’t trust you. You’re just as likely to kill me as anyone else.”

“ _Au contraire, ma belle_. I have every intention of keeping you.” He patted her on the head. “Even though at times you try my patience, you stubborn little thing.” There was a playfulness to his words, a familiarity that almost bordered on endearment. 

“You only say that because you want something from me,” she said with a glare, “because I ‘entertain’ you.”

“True.” He raised an eyebrow, “But I’ve also come to enjoy your company, and I daresay that at times the feeling is mutual.” He leaned down, closing more of the distance between them _._ “I know you think me a cruel man, but I am capable of mercy. I can make Hell far more enjoyable for those who earn my favor.”

His eyes flickered to the scar he’d left on her arm, then back to her.

“And _you,_ ” he said, his voice now laced with the suggestion of something intimate, sensual, _dangerous,_ “have _certainly_ earned it, my darling.”

She felt her face flush as something alluring and terrifying bloomed in her belly.

“Not yours,” she muttered, looking away. “Not _your_ darling.”

“A matter of semantics, sweetheart.” He grinned. “Just think on it, will you? It’s always good to thoroughly examine one’s options, after all.” She flinched as he tapped her on the nose. “Goodnight, cher.”

Shadows enveloped him until only his smile remained.

“I’ll be waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot rolls on! Our protagonist's perilous predicament has placed her in quite a pickle, and Alastor, facing the growth of his own strange sentiments, is here once again to lend a "helping" hand. Then again, Vox is still waiting in the wings with an offer of his own, and her puzzling presence has piqued Lucifer's interest as well. 
> 
> What comes next? What will she choose? Or, will the choice be made for her? Only time will tell, dear readers!
> 
> In all seriousness, this scene was really hard for me to write, given the circumstances of their last meeting. I think I managed to capture their feelings well enough though. Let me know what y'all think! <3


	31. On the Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroine weighs her options as she recovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last week's chapter got a ton of wonderful comments, so I'm happy to report you're getting a bit of a longer one today! Also, please be sure to read the end notes, I have an important announcement to make. Enjoy!

It took two days before Lee could keep down anything heavier than applesauce and toast. Another two before she could stay awake for more than three hours at a time. By the time Husk started to remove her stitches, a whole week had passed. He was in a much better mood now that he was back to his usual state of inebriation and would occasionally rib her over getting to take a “vacation” when everyone else was still hard at work patching things up. She knew he was only teasing her, but his words only strengthened her feelings of uselessness, of weakness.

She did her best to distract herself, to drown those self-loathing thoughts with a torrent of mindless entertainment, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling of dread prickling the back of her skull. Alastor’s warning haunted her, and every glance in the mirror served as a stark reminder of her vulnerability: the bruises that had begun to fade from blues and purples to mottled greens and yellows, the shiny scar tissue that stretched across her shoulder blade, stomach and back in long, raised lines, the fading sigil surrounding the healing bite mark on her calf.

And then there were the signs of life from the lobby below: the sound of marching feet and barked orders, of hammers and chisels and saws, filtering up from the floor. Outside her window she could hear the rumble of news vans and the shouted questions of clamoring reporters, as well as the occasional explosion or bout of gunfire as ragtag groups of greedy demons lay siege to the hotel. Every attack sent her blood pressure spiking as her body tensed, fearing that day might be her last.

Thankfully she had a parade of visitors to help keep the tattered remains of her sanity intact. Charlie and Vaggie stopped by occasionally, giving her updates on how the repairs were going and which ruffians the security detail had driven off that day. She knew they meant well, but their reports brought her no comfort, especially as the number of casualties on both sides grew larger and the sounds of battle from the street below drew closer and closer. Niffty doted on her, bringing her meals as well as gossip to keep her spirits up. Apparently her and Ranbir, the bull demon from New Year’s, had hit it off and were now seeing each other. The little cyclops was over the moon, practically glowing with delight as she prattled on to Lee about how handsome he was and when she was going to see him next and, embarrassingly, how good he was in the sack. Sure, she was happy for her friend, but she _really_ didn’t need that much information.

Angel was the one who ended up spending the most time with her. He would let her rest her head on his fluffy chest (for free!) as they watched soap operas on his laptop, or he told her stories of how things were going at work. He was busier than ever these days, and tended to stop by at odd times, but he was always a welcome distraction from being alone with her thoughts.

In fact, she could hear the telltale footfalls of his boots outside her door now.

“Toots, look at this!” he cried, bursting into the room. “I made three grand in one night!” He pulled a fistful of crumpled bills out of his purse, shaking them. “And Val ain’t gonna get a cent of it!”

“Really?” she asked, sitting up in bed, “I thought he always took a cut, though.” A twinge of worry ran through her. She’d heard enough stories about Angel’s pimp to know he was a cruel man, and she didn’t want her friend to get in trouble.

“Yeah, when I’m on the clock. But when I’m off the books, it’s all mine,” he said, shooting her a conspiratorial wink. “I just gotta keep it hush-hush is all.” He took a few awkward, limping steps towards her bed and collapsed on his back. Now that he was closer, she could see more signs of wear and tear: red marks that would certainly turn into bruises, a cut on his chin, dilated pupils.

“Angel, what happened to you?”

“Eh, just a fivesome with some hellborns in town on business. They’re from the Lust circle, so they can’t go too long without a fix.” He grinned, and she noticed one of his teeth was chipped. “I was able ta charge ‘em double my usual rate.”

“Are you gonna be ok?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved a hand dismissively. “Just some standard S&M stuff, a couple a DPs, suck ‘em off a bit.” He sat up, wincing slightly. “Unlike you, I can re-gen. Gimme a few days an’ I’ll be fine.”

She shook a few of Alastor’s pain pills into her palm and offered them to him. “Here.”

“You poppin’ pills now too, babe? Tryin’ ta act like a real celeb?” She could tell he was joking, but there was an undercurrent of genuine concern in his voice.

“They’re not addictive, don’t worry. _Alastor_ got them for me.” She spat out his name with all the venom she could muster.

While the Radio Demon had been conspicuously absent from her rotating cast of companions, he’d still been taking up far too much real-estate in her head. With so much free time on her hands, her thoughts would inevitably circle back to his proposal, and as much as she hated to admit it, a small, cowardly part of herself wanted to take it. While her body was healing, her mind still felt threadbare and worn, and every moment she spent awake was tinged with terror as memories of chittering, gnashing teeth and gushing blood surfaced unbidden. His offer of protection, of _freedom_ after so many months spent hiding in the shadows was a tempting one, even if it came from as dubious a source as Alastor.

“Did he get _those_ for ya too?” Angel asked, swallowing the pills dry and gesturing at the collection of books, wrapped boxes and bouquets on her dresser. Some of the flowers had just started to wilt, dropping a few stray petals onto her floor.

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Bastard still wants me to make a deal, so I guess now he’s resorted to bribery.” She fidgeted with her bedspread. “Charlie thinks it’s sweet, that it means he’s still got some good in him, but I know better. I tried putting them in my trash can for Niffty to take out, but they just re-appear the next day.”

It had started the morning after his visit, when she’d awoken to the sound of a clattering _crash._ Scared out of her mind, she’d immediately buried her head under her covers with a frightened scream, expecting to be ripped apart at any moment by some demon. But as seconds, then minutes passed without another sound, she’d gradually gathered the courage to peek her head out once more.

Sitting on her nightstand was an absolutely enormous bouquet: lavender and lilacs, pink tulips and peonies, lilies, freesia, and the biggest roses she’d ever seen, pure white blooms the size of her fist. Her lamp had evidently been knocked over by the ferns and sturdy gardenia branches framing the ostentatious display, and she sat up in bed, puzzled. Propped up against the vase, well, _pot_ really, given how big it was, was a worn, paperback copy of “The Time Machine” and a small envelope. Curious, she’d opened it, only to find another note from her least favorite demon.

‘My darling,

I’d like to apologize for my intrusion last night. It wasn’t my intention to scare you, but it’s clear I inadvertently ended up giving you quite the fright, especially given the circumstances.

Please accept these as a token of my sincere apology. The novella should be a quick read, and the theme of travel between worlds will hopefully hold your interest. Do let me know if you like it, as I have several other books by Wells I could lend you!

Rest well,

Alastor.’

She’d promptly carried the vase over to her dresser (with some difficulty, the damn thing was _heavy_ ), righted her lamp, and fallen back to sleep, keen to write it off as just another of the radio host’s innumerable idiosyncrasies. But as her confinement wore on, the gifts kept coming: a couple nightgowns, a bowl of steaming noodle soup, a pair of red slippers, and, of course, more notes.

‘Poor Niffty was unable to fully remove the stains from your new nightgown and is absolutely distraught. At her request, I’ve taken the liberty of replacing it for you, plus an extra. Please inform me if they’re not to your tastes, as I’d be happy to fetch you some more.’

‘This is yaka mein, a staple of New Orleans second lines! Guaranteed to cure hangovers as well as lift your spirits. Feel free to hit it with a few shots of Tabasco, but be careful, sweetheart! A little goes a long way!’

‘There’s snow in the forecast this evening, my dear, and with the decrepit state of the hotel’s heating system, I suspect we’ll all be needing extra linens tonight. I’ll have Niffty bring you some, but in the meantime, these should help keep you from catching a chill as you become more mobile.’

She wasn’t sure if this was him trying to butter her up or if he was just being his normal, overbearing self, but either way she wasn’t having it: the book sat on her nightstand un-read, the slippers were tossed into her closet, and the nightgowns were buried at the bottom of her underwear drawer, out of sight and out of mind. She did drink the soup, though. Alastor may be a bastard, but he was also a damn good cook, and the thought of perfectly good food going to waste just didn’t sit right with her. 

Each note was accompanied by a red pen and a blank piece of paper on which to reply, and each page went unused, as she was in no mood to be pen-pals with the man who’d caused her so much grief. Instead of taking her cold shoulder as an invitation to _fuck off_ , however, he’d evidently seen it as a challenge. As the days wore on, the gifts became more numerous and elaborate, accumulating in a haphazard, ever-growing collection. It had gotten to the point that every few hours or so some random object would materialize on her nightstand with a light _pop_ , and she’d just groan, adding it to the pile. She didn’t bother reading the notes anymore.

“Jesus Christ,” Angel whistled. “I haven’t seen somethin’ like this since Paulie Nitti had the hots for my sister!”

“Oh God,” she groaned. “How’d she deal with this shit?”

“She let ‘im take her out ta dinner, figured she’d treat herself to a good meal on his dime, then tell ‘em to get lost.”

“Did it work?”

“Nah,” he said with a glare. “Asshole tried ta get handsy, sayin’ she owed him some sugar.”

Her stomach turned as a closet door and squeezing hands flashed in her mind. “That’s awful,” she said quietly.

“S’okay, though.” He broke into a grin, his expression lightening. “She socked ‘im in the mouth so hard he lost a tooth! The fucker couldn’t look her or my pops in the eye for weeks afterwards!” His eyes were bright, practically glowing with pride.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I can punch my way outta this one,” she said with a small smile. “But she still sounds amazing, Angel.”

“Ya wanna see her?” he asked, digging around in his breast pocket. She nodded and he produced what looked like a golden locket on a chain. “You gotta be careful, though. It took me thirty years to save up for this.”

“Thirty years? Is it made of real gold or something?” she asked, holding the locket in the palm of her hand. She pulled open the delicate clasp, revealing a blurry black and white photo about the size of a quarter. It was small and out of focus, but she could still make out big eyes, a beaming smile and a cloud of dark curls framing a heart-shaped face.

“It’s a memory portrait,” he said. “There’s some broads downtown that do blood magic, kinda like the shit Smiles does. You give ‘em some of yours, and they can draw out your memories, put ‘em down on paper. For the right price, of course. They’re in high demand though, so you gotta go through a broker, and even then it’s hit or miss whether you actually get your picture or you just get screwed.” His face fell slightly. “That’s what happened the day we went out, when I left ya on your own for a bit. I saw my broker across the street. The guy’d been avoidin’ me for months, and I had to shake him down to finally get mine.” He scowled. “Turns out he was a scalper.”

“A scalper?”

“They’re the lowest of the low. They pose as brokers to steal people’s portraits.” There was a far-away look in his eyes. “When you kick the bucket, you can’t take nothin’ with you, and the longer you’re down here, the more you forget about the good things from your life up top. Memories are all you’ve got, and scalpers get off on collecting ‘em.” He sat down on the bed next to her. “By the time most people save up to try to get another portrait, they’ve forgotten what they wanna remember.”

A small part of her broke at that. “She’s beautiful,” she breathed, handing the locket back to him. “What’s her name?”

“Molly,” he said softly. “Her name was Molly. We’re twins, so we were thick as thieves since the day we was born. I taught her how to throw a punch, and she taught me how to paint my nails.” He stared at the locket, eyes shining as he started to tear up. “I used to sneak her sweets when Ma said she had to watch her figure, and she always let me do her hair up nice when she’d go out dancing.” He could no longer hide the tremor in his voice. “God, I miss her.”

Lee carefully patted him on the back, trying not to scare him off. He didn’t open up often, and she didn’t want a repeat of their disastrous shopping trip.

“Is she still alive?” she asked.

“Prob’ly not,” he said with a snort. “She’d be pushin’ 108, and I can’t see Moll deciding to hang around that long. Even when we were teenagers, she’d slather on her cold cream every night, sayin’ she didn’t wanna get wrinkles.” He sighed, flopping back onto her bed and staring at the ceiling. “Nah, she’s been dead and gone for a while now, and if there’s any justice in this fucked-up world, she didn’t end up down here.”

“I’m sure you’ll see her again someday.”

“You’re startin’ to sound like Blondie.” He tucked the locket back into his breast pocket, his expression turning more serious. “You know this whole redemption thing’s a crock a shit, right?”

“But what if it isn’t?” she asked. “What if it’s possible?”

“Hon,” he said, rolling onto his side and propping his chin up with one of his arms. “When you come from where I do, when you’ve seen the things that I’ve seen, you know better than ta believe in miracles and fairy tales. Charlie can spout off about ‘goodness’ and ‘forgiveness’ all she wants, but it don’t change the fact that she’s a trust-fund baby that just stepped outta her ivory tower. Sooner or later she’s gonna realize ya can’t make saints outta sinners, and this place’ll close down. She’ll move on to her next pet project: buildin’ community gardens, teachin’ imp kids how ta read, some bullshit like that, while folks like me go back to the same dirty work we’ve been doin’ for decades to scrape by.” He smiled ruefully. “I may be a hooker, but I ain’t stupid. I’ll be down here ‘til the day Val gets tired of me and throws me to the Exterminators.” 

She opened her mouth to protest, then paused, worried that any reassurances she offered would only set him off again. Instead, she offered a simple, “I’m sorry.”

He pushed off the bed. “ _Alla come viene, viene_. Nothin’ you or me can do about it, toots.” Rolling the tension from his shoulders as he stood, he limped over to her dresser. “Do you…?” he trailed off, gesturing to the pile of unopened gifts.

“Take ‘em. Knowing Alastor, they’re probably headless dolls or taxidermy animals or some other weird shit.”

“Sweet.” One pair of his arms began stuffing presents into his purse while the other undid the ribbon on one of the larger boxes, too eager to wait. “Oh shit! Look at this!” He was grinning like a kid on Christmas as he pulled out a drop-waisted red dress with a tiered skirt. “This looks hand-beaded!” he said eagerly, running his fingers over the elaborate patterns. “Musta cost a fortune!”

“It’s all yours,” she said with a sigh. The dress was absolutely gorgeous, but given its source, she wanted nothing to do with it. He couldn’t buy her with some flashy clothes, no sir! She wouldn’t fold that easily!

He paused. “You’re too good to me, babe.” Some of the enthusiasm had gone out of his voice, his face falling. “Too good.”

For a minute he said nothing, tracing the beaded roses that framed the scoop neckline. She could see he was wrestling with something: shoulders drooping, a sad cast to his eyes, one hand drumming against the top of her dresser.

“I didn’t just come ta show you the dough,” he said finally. He carefully folded the dress and placed it back in the box. His expression was weary, guilty as he turned his attention back towards her. “I’ve been mostly clean for a couple a days now, and I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’, tryin’ ta get my head straight after… y’know.” He sighed. “I came to say I’m sorry.”

“Angel—”

“No!” he cut her off, a fist clenched at his side. “I know what you’re gonna say, that it’s fine, that ya forgive me an’ all that. But you’re lettin’ me off the hook too easy. I’ve been treatin’ ya like shit.” He gestured to her bruised and bandaged body. “And ya clearly aren’t fine.”

“But that’s not your fault, though.”

“Yes, it is!” He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “God, I’m already not good at this, so would ya quit arguin’ and listen?!” He crossed one pair of arms. “I’m the one that convinced ya to come out and party, I’m the one that left ya on the street that day, I’m the one that posted that _fucking picture—”_

“Angel, please—”

“For what?! A couple thousand likes and more sleazeballs in my DM’s askin’ me to send ‘em feet pics!” He began to pace the room but wobbled a bit, still sore from work. “And now you got fuckin’ _Vox_ tryin’ to get you to sell yer soul!” He started to get a bit choked up. “He’s been sendin’ his goons around, yanno? Blondie told me not ta tell ya, that it’d only upset ya, but they’ve been showin’ up at least twice a day with a contract they want ya to sign. And one a these days they’re gonna show up with guns, Angelic weapons, the whole shebang, and they ain’t gonna take no for an answer, and it’s _all my fault!”_ He punched the wall in frustration, then leaned against it, unable to look her in the eye.

“Val’s been askin’ me about ya, too.” His words were wavering, barely above a whisper. “Wants ta know what you’re like, how tough ya are, whether you’re—” His voice broke. “He wants ta force you into this life. The only reason he hasn’t ordered me to snatch you up is ‘cause him and Vox are back together, and the blockhead’s insistin’ on doin’ things his way. Fucker’s paranoid about pissin’ off the King.”

She sat there, stunned. “Would you?” she asked, fearing the answer she’d get but needing to know. “Do that for him?”

“No,” he grit his teeth. “No, I’ll be double-damned if I let ‘im make me a part a that.” He turned to her, eyes welling with tears. “But I don’t think I could stop him, Lee. If Val wants somethin’ he doesn’t ask, he just _takes_ it.”

_Greedy lips and a belt buckle and knees knocking against the floor—_

Unpleasant heat broke out on her skin, crawling like phantom fingers. Terror and nausea swirled in her stomach as she fidgeted with the hem of her pajama shirt, pulling a stray thread free as she tried to keep her breathing even.

“Why are you telling me this?”

There was a long pause.

“I called my brother today,” he said finally. “Haven’t spoken to ‘im in decades, but I didn’t know what else ta do. He’s still in the ‘family business,’ so he’s got eyes and ears on the ground.” He leaned against the wall, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket. “It cost me a good amount a scratch, and pretty much any goodwill he had left for me, but he’s reliable.” He lit up, fingers flexing as he tried to calm down. “The price of Angelic weapons on the black market’s doubled since New Year’s. Mercenary groups from the Pentagram to Pandemonium are buyin’ guns, bombs, trucks, anything you’d need for a snatch-and-grab operation. People are makin’ moves, cashin’ in favors.”

“But I’m still okay for now, right?” she asked, hanging on to her last shred of hope with white-knuckled fists. “You said you and Husk could help guard me, that Charlie’s on my side. And now we have mercenaries of our own to protect the hotel!”

“That’s what I thought,” he said grimly. “But now it’s a numbers game.” He took another puff of his cigarette. “Ya see, you’re valuable, but ya ain’t priceless. High-powered Overlords and most hellborn elites think ya aren’t worth the effort. For the ones in the middle, you’re just right: they can use ya as a bargaining chip in business deals, to pay off debts, and make a ton of cash short-term sellin’ yer blood and… _access_ to ya.” He shuddered at that last thought, and a small plume of ash fell to the floor.

“But for the rest of ‘em? The wannabe Overlords, the street gangs, the washed-up syndicates whose best days are behind them?” His expression soured. “You’re their ticket to the good life: money, power, fame, status. They’re puttin’ all their eggs in your fuckin’ basket, toots. And let me tell ya, there’s a lotta desperate pretenders and has-beens in Hell.”

“But Charlie is Lucifer’s daughter! If I’m under her protection, shouldn’t that mean something?”

“I dunno if you’ve noticed, babe, but Charlie and her pops ain’t exactly on the best terms. And at the end of the day, she’s only one woman, a Goliath, sure, but a soft-hearted one, facin’ down a buncha Davids holdin’ M4’s instead a slingshots.”

Alastor’s warning echoed in her head: “ _You’d be dead before she even realized you were gone.”_

He tossed the spent cigarette into the trash. “And the hotel’s more strapped for cash than she wants to admit. I heard her and Vaggie arguin’ last night. They can only pay the soldiers outside for one, two more weeks max, otherwise the hotel’s gonna go under. Vaggie wants to send ya away, lock you up in some mansion the Magne family owns while they try to pull themselves outta the red, but Charlie’s still not sure. And if ya ask me, you’ll be no safer there than here, ‘specially without people that actually give a shit about ya to watch yer back.”

“What do I do?” she asked, fear creeping up her spine. “What _can_ I do?”

“Well,” Angel said with a sigh, “the last time ya listened to me, ya nearly died, so I don’t think I’m the best person ta ask.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “But if you really wanna know…”

“What?”

He gestured to the pile of gifts on her dresser. “You do have _one_ option...”

Her anxiety quickly gave way to anger. “Angel. If you’re seriously suggesting I make a deal with that _fucking prick—”_

“No, no, no!” he interrupted, putting both pairs of hands up defensively. “I don’t want ya to sign on with him or anythin’ like that, fuck no! All I’m sayin’ is he’s clearly taken a shine to ya, in some fucked-up, twisted way.”

“He’s trying to sweet talk me into shaking his hand, that’s all it is,” she said, looking away. “And if anything, he just thinks I’m pathetic.” She couldn’t hide the sadness in her voice. “An easy mark.”

“Oh, don’t you give me that shit!” Angel said. “This is no time ta throw a pity party!”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “Look, I know he’s a fuckin’ weirdo, but down here you gotta do things ya hate to survive. And I know for a fact that swallowin’ yer pride and asking Alastor for a favor is a better option than waitin’ for someone ta break in and snatch you up.”

_A favor._ She rubbed the scar he’d left on her arm absentmindedly. “No way.”

“Well, then I don’t know what ta tell ya, babe. Far as I can see he’s your best bet: he doesn’t wanna parade you around on TV like some circus freak, and he doesn’t wanna fuck you or whore you out. If those wannabe gangbangers found out you were under the protection of the Radio Demon, they wouldn’t try to touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

“I don’t care!” she cried, anger flaring. “I’m not going to him for help! He’s put me through hell for months now, and I’m not gonna let him win!”

“It ain’t about winnin’ or losin’ anymore, kid!” Angel said, exasperated. “This is your _life_ on the line! You think I like doin’ this?” He gestured to the red marks on his face. “You think I like havin’ to stand out on the corner in the freezing fuckin’ cold selling ass? _No!_ But I do it ‘cause I _have_ to, to keep food in Nuggs’ bowl and pay my fuckin’ bills!”

“It’s not just that! It’s… I…” It was like her tongue was made of lead. Try as she might, she couldn’t force herself to reveal the details of what exactly Alastor had asked for in exchange for his last favor, no doubt thanks to that damn spell of his. “He scares me,” she said finally.

“Join the fuckin’ club! Everyone and their mother is afraid of Smiles, and for good reason! The guy’s got a helluva reputation, not to mention all the bad mojo he’s got goin’ on. You need ‘im on your side, toots.”

_“Like it or not, you need me, little darling.”_

“Alastor never does anything for free, though,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “He’s gonna want something in return.” _Like my blood…_

“Then find somethin’ he wants! Shine his shoes, laugh at his shitty jokes, I dunno! Flatter him, beg him, make ‘em feel like he’s yer knight in shining armor. Better yet, try ta spin it: say that if you’re dead, ya won’t be around ta ‘entertain’ him, or some shit.” He sighed, taking a few wobbly steps towards her. “Look, I know this ain’t what you wanna hear, that he’s a creep and you’re embarrassed. But you know I got a point. And far as I’m concerned, as long as you ain’t sellin’ your body or your soul, you’re still comin’ out on top.” He held out his arms. “C’mere.”

She looked up at him, puzzled. “Wha...?”

“I just spent the last three hours bent over, I ain’t bendin’ down again ta hug ya!” he said with a smile. “Get up, babe!” He helped pull her to her feet, pressing her against him as he wrapped both pairs of arms around her. “This whole thing sucks, I know. And if I could help you more, I would. But ya won’t be able to get home if you’re dead, and for what it’s worth, I like havin’ you around.” 

She stifled a sob as she leaned into his embrace, desperate for comfort.

“Hey, hey! Careful, this is designer! Don’t get snot all over it,” he scolded her half-heartedly, a playful lit to his voice.

“’M sorry,” she sniffled, her voice slightly muffled.

“No,” he said, pulling back slightly, “No, _I’m_ sorry, toots. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this shit. Or some of it, at least.” He tilted her chin up, and she could see the worry on his face as he tried to choose the right words. “I was… selfish. I wasn’t thinkin’ about what could hurt you. And that’s fucked up, and I’m sorry. Okay?” He looked away. “Christ. I really ain’t good at this, so could ya just put me outta my misery an’ tell me ta fuck off already?”

A pained look flashed across his face, as if he expected her to do just that, to reject him.

Instead, she threw her arms around him, giving him a warm squeeze.

“I forgive you, Angel.” She couldn’t help the small smile that spread across her face as he looked down at her in shock, mouth agape. “ _Now_ you can fuck off.”

His grin grew to mirror her own. “Alright, alright,” he said, ruffling her hair, “ya big softie.” He released her, turning to grab his purse from her dresser. “I’m still takin’ these, though!” She jumped as he produced an extra set of arms, gathering up the rest of her presents, including the red beaded frock. She felt a small pang of sadness as he added it to his growing pile of goodies. It really was beautiful… and it looked like it would fit her perfectly…

“Wait!” she cried. Angel paused. “Can you, uh,” she stammered, “can you actually leave that? Please?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, putting the dress back in its box. “Did Smiles actually end up doin’ something right for once?”

She shrugged, feeling heat rise on her face. “A broken clock’s still right twice a day.”

“Riiiight.” He stuck his tongue out at her and winked. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell ‘im. Yer secret’s safe with me, babe.” He paused at her door, glancing back at her one last time. “Also… if you ever wanna… talk, or somethin’…” he trailed off. “Well, you have my number. G’night.”

“Night.”

Lee snuggled back under her covers, feeling like a small weight had been lifted from her. It hadn’t been the best apology in the world, not by a long shot, but it had sounded sincere, and it was clear that he’d grown to care for her. The more time she spent with Angel, the more convinced she became that he wasn’t beyond hope. Sure, he had all the worst qualities of a hardened mobster and a bitchy old queen, but he’d shown he was capable of kindness, of remorse, of loyalty. He’d even gone out of his way to try to help, reaching out to his estranged family and offering her advice, even if it wasn’t news she wanted to hear. There was a glimmer of goodness in him, way deep down, and if Charlie’s theory of redemption held any water, she was sure that with some time and a lot of hard work he could meet whatever convoluted requirements Heaven demanded for entry.

And If he could find a way back to where he truly belonged, then dammit, so could she! He’d helped light a flame of renewed hope in her heart, chasing away some of the doubt that clouded her days. And now that she didn’t have to hide anymore, maybe someone would come forward and offer to aid her in her efforts to get home. Maybe there were more people out there like Angel, good people who’d turned to violence and sin more as a result of circumstance than choice.

Maybe, just maybe, help was on the way.

And then she got a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun...
> 
> On a bit more serious note, I have some bad news: I'm going to have to go on a hiatus here shortly. I'm dealing with some rather serious health stuff, and fortunately I can get the care I need, but a condition of my receiving treatment giving up my phone, laptop, internet, etc. for at least six weeks. 
> 
> But!!! I'm not going to leave you until we've finished Act One, because I love you and don't want you dangling on a cliffhanger for weeks in my absence. Chapter 32 will come out next week, and Chapter 33 the week after, closing out Act One rather neatly before I have to go away. 
> 
> The tentative estimate for the dates of my hiatus is from February 25th until around April 19th, with my returning to posting regular chapters on the 20th (4/20, hah!). However, there is an off chance that treatment may take longer, depending on how responsive I am. If you'd like to be notified when I'm back, you can always subscribe to get an email notification when Chapter 34 goes up. Alternatively, you can just bookmark the fic or keep a tab open, and check back around the 20th-21st of April.
> 
> I know this story is a bright spot for some of you, and I hate to leave you, but it'll be much easier for me to write and post regularly when I have that whole "keeping myself alive" thing more straightened out ^___^' I hope you can forgive me. 
> 
> Now, on to happier things, this chapter! A touching heart-to-heart, secrets revealed, our protagonist's inner conflict brought to the fore. Funnily enough, the concept of memory portraits was inspired by, of all things, this John Mulaney bit, "The One Thing You Can't Replace": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gto20RACy9E
> 
> I truly hope you enjoyed this one, as it took me much longer to write than usual (because of aforementioned reasons). I finally got it to a state where I'm satisfied though. 
> 
> Feel free to sound off in the comments, and I'll see you next week!
> 
> All my love,
> 
> Regina <3


	32. When the Chips are Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A house of cards topples.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating a little early because I'm super proud of this chapter and I need the dopamine lol. It's a wild ride, so buckle up, folks.
> 
> Content warning: violence, blood and gore; descriptions/depictions of past sexual assault, denoted in italics; mild passive suicidal ideation

The first time Lee’s phone rang, she ignored it.

She was halfway through her first shift back at work, balanced on a stepladder and trying to dust the top of a particularly tall armoire. The sudden buzzing from her pocket and muffled strains of Dead or Alive’s “You Spin Me Round” had startled her, so much so that she’d almost taken a rather nasty fall, only barely managing to catch herself against the heavy wooden door of the wardrobe. She let a few curses fly, a hand clasped over her racing heart, her jaw clenched in irritation as she tried to stop her legs from shaking. After a week and a half of being confined to her room during the hotel’s repairs, she was eager to start pulling her weight again, and the last thing she needed was to have an accident put her back out of commission. She let the call go to voicemail, silently condemning whatever telemarketer that was bothering her to the hottest, darkest depths of Double Hell (which may or may not be a thing, according to Angel). 

_Probably some poor imp “trying to reach me about my extended warranty” or something,_ she thought.

But then the phone rang again.

Groaning, she climbed down, fishing the phone out of her pocket. “Unknown Number” was emblazoned across the screen, and a flash of panic ran through her. Had someone hacked into her phone, leaked her number to the press? Or was Vox calling, trying to get her to sign on with him for the umpteenth time this week? He’d been sending his goons around more and more frequently, to the point that Husk knew a few of them by name, as well as their drinks of choice.

A third call. Dread twisted in her gut as she took a few shaky steps toward the unmade hotel bed, sinking down onto the bare mattress. Once was a fluke, twice a coincidence, but three times was a pattern. Swallowing hard, she brought the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey there, baby,” a low, smoky voice drawled.

_Baby?!_

“I’m sorry,” she sputtered, “but I think you have the wrong number.”

“Oh no I don’t. I know _exactly_ who you are, little Miss Lee, and I’ve just been _dying_ to talk to you.”

 _Oh Christ._ Her phone number had definitely been leaked, she was sure of that now, and this creep was probably just one of a long line of weirdos who’d be calling in. She’d have to tell Niffty ASAP, send her out to fetch her a new SIN card.

“Look, I don’t know how you got this number, but I’m not dealing with this shit. Fuck off, goodb—”

“Don’t. You. _Dare.”_

Her stomach dropped as her blood froze in her veins. Gone was the seductive, honeyed lit to his words. In its place was something sharp, brutal, _angry._

“You’re gonna stay on the line, and you’re not gonna hang up until I do,” he continued, his words gritted and harsh. “Got it?”

_Dark._

_“No, I don’t—"_

_“Fucking bitch.”_

Her nausea strengthened as her breath came in short, quick puffs, panic rising in her. It was as if he’d turned on a dime, adopting a tone she was painfully familiar with, and she tugged at the hem of her shirt, desperately trying to stay calm.

“Who are you?” she asked, unable to keep her voice from wavering.

“The name’s Valentino, doll-face,” he said with a chuckle, that smooth affect returning, “but _you_ can call me Daddy.”

Bile burned the back of her throat as her hair stood on end, unpleasant chills running up and down her spine.

“Let’s get down to brass tacks, baby cakes,” there was a faint crackling on the other end of the line that reminded her of something burning, “You’ve been giving my man the runaround, turning up your nose at his offer, acting like you’re too good for him. Do you know how many of my girls would kill to be you right now? To get to go on television and do something other than get their holes blown out? You really are a spoiled brat.” A hint of something darker crept into his voice. “And you’ve been a pain in Voxy’s ass for too long.”

“So, here’s what you’re going to do: you’re not gonna breathe a word of this conversation to anybody, not Vox, not the princess, not even my Angelcakes. Tomorrow morning, Vox’s men are going to stop by with a contract, and you’re gonna sign it, no questions asked. Then, you’re gonna get in their car, and they’re gonna take you straight to 3V studios so that my man can put you to work and quit bitching to me about you.”

“No,” she said, throat closing up as tears began to well in her eyes. “No, I’m not doing that.”

“Oh yes you are, because if you don’t, I’m sending _my_ men in, and they’ll drag your ass straight to _my_ studio.” There was a lascivious tint to his threat that made her stomach turn. “Unlike Vox, I don’t give a fuck whether I own your soul. I could still make a _lot_ of money with a pretty little thing like you before you kick the bucket. And have a lot of _fun,_ too…”

“You’re a liar,” she said, fighting the urge to vomit, “There’s armed guards, you wouldn’t be able to get to me!”

“And you trust them?! Hah!” he said with manic glee. “This is Hell! Everyone can be bribed; everyone has a weak spot. I’ve had double agents casing the place all week. All I’d have to do is make a few phone calls, and they’d drag you out of that damn hotel in a heartbeat.” There was more crackling on the other end of the line, then a leisurely exhale. “What room did they say you’re in again? 183? 184?”

Her breath caught in her throat as terror seized in her chest.

“Yes, that’s right, room 184, I remember now,” he said, feigning casualness. “And they said my Angel’s been paying you lots of visits, no doubt filling your head with lies about how terrible I am, the ungrateful _slut.”_ He spat out the insult.

“Don’t you dare call him that!” she snapped, a bolt of rage giving her momentary courage.

“Ooooh, I was hoping you’d be feisty!” he purred. “The angry ones are always the most fun to break in.”

_Belt buckle._

_Zipper._

_"_ _Shut up.”_

“It’s cute, really, how much you care about him,” Valentino continued, “even after what he did.”

It was bait, obvious bait, but she couldn’t stop herself: “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” he asked in mock surprise. “What a shame! Then again, he was probably too high to remember, and even if he did, he’d be too chickenshit to admit it.” He chuckled. “Baby girl, your precious ‘friend’ Angel Dust is the reason you’re in this mess in the first place.”

“You’re wrong,” she said through gritted teeth. “New Year’s was just as much my fault as it was his.”

“New Years?!” he said with a laugh. “You’re still stuck on that shitshow? No, no, doll, we knew about you _weeks_ before New Year’s.”

A deep, creeping dread began to worm its way up her spine. “You’re lying…”

“See for yourself.” Her phone pinged a moment later: he’d sent her a video of what looked like black-and-white security footage, shot from above, it’s timestamp dating it to October of last year. “I’ve gotta go now, baby,” he continued. “Daddy’s a busy man, after all. Be ready to sign tomorrow. And if you don’t… at least wear something cute. I like my new toys wrapped up nice.”

He let out once last laugh, and the line went dead.

The thumbnail of the video was grainy, but she could make out a line of what looked like old-school dressing tables and vanities. She pressed play, and the scene sprang to life: Demons in harnesses and lingerie (or nothing at all) milled about, shooting the shit, re-doing their makeup and hair, smoking. Bumping electronica music mixed with illicit groans and conversation filtered out of her phone’s speakers.

_This must be the studio Angel always talks about…_

The camera zoomed in on the man in question, seated at a vanity, snorting up neat lines of what she assumed was cocaine. He looked up, as if he’d heard something, and fished his phone out of his purse. For a moment he was silent, listening to whoever was on the other line.

“No can do, toots. Boss got me workin’ overtime,” he said finally. Lee turned up the volume, trying to pick out his words amidst the clamor.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, it’s not up to me,” he said, his voice a bit clearer this time. “And trust me, I’d go get shitfaced if I could. I’ve had a crazy couple of weeks.”

She did the mental math; this was just after she’d arrived at the hotel.

_No… he wouldn’t…_

“You’re not gonna believe this shit,” Angel continued, sounding exasperated. “Ya know that dumpy hotel I’m crashing at? Well get this, they got a fuckin’ _human.”_

Her

heart

_stopped._

“Yeah, she’s basically on house arrest. Can’t leave the place. I almost…” His mouth kept moving, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying over the ringing in her ears. Her hands began to shake, and she dropped the phone in her lap, a sob bubbling up in her chest. How could he have been so careless? Did he really think so little of her?

When he apologized the other day… had he just been talking about New Years? Or did he mean this too?

Had he been keeping this from her _this whole time?!_

The hotel furniture grew watery and distorted as hot, angry tears flooded her eyes. She snatched the phone up, practically sprinting out of the room, propelled forward by betrayal and disbelief. She made a beeline for the elevator, and then the bar as she closed in on her target, sitting in his usual spot.

“Whoa, kid! What’s the matter?!” Husk’s eyes widened as he took in the state of her.

“How could you?!?” she cried, marching right up to a very confused Angel and poking him in the chest. “How could you do this to me?!”

“Babe, babe! What’s goin’ on?!” he asked, brows furrowed in worry.

“You knew,” she hiccuped, “you _knew_ that I wasn’t safe! That I was in danger! How could you be so... so _fucking—_ ” Her chest was tight as she forced the words out, trying to remain intelligible despite the waves of emotion crashing over her. She thrust the phone at him, hitting play.

The two men watched the scene play out on the small screen. Angel’s face grew pale as he finally put the pieces together, and Husk’s fur stood on end, his pupils narrowing into angry slits.

“You _dumbass!”_ Angel barely had time to duck before Husk swung at him.

“Husk, don’t!” she cried. She was pissed at Angel, that’s for damn sure, but she didn’t want the two demons before her to get into a bar fight that she and Niffty would inevitably have to clean up.

“Hey!” He stumbled back as Husk vaulted the counter. “Wait, I—”

“Charlie told ya to do one thing! One fuckin’ thing!” Husk took another swing, managing to catch him in the jaw with a nasty right hook despite their height difference. He staggered back, holding his face in disbelief.

“What the fuck, Husk?!”

“Stop!” Lee pleaded with him.

“And instead, ya went off and started runnin’ yer mouth!” he roared. “You coulda gotten her killed!”

“I just told Cherri!” He turned his attention back to Lee, “Toots, I’m sorry, I didn’t think it’d be a big deal—"

“A big deal?! She’s _human,_ motherfucker! They’re like goddamn unicorns down here!”

“I was _high!_ I wasn’t thinkin’ straight! _”_ he said defensively, indignation creeping into his voice.

 _"That’s even worse!”_ Husk threw another punch, but this time Angel was faster, catching his arm with two of his own and kicking him in the stomach. Husk stumbled backwards, doubled over and swearing in several languages she couldn’t place.

“Would ya stop tryin’ ta hit me an’ _listen?!”_

 _“Fuck you!”_ He charged at him. “You put the kid in danger,” he threw another punch, barely missing as Angel backed away, “you brought her into a room full a fuckin’ demons,” this time the punch connected, his fist sinking into Angel’s fluffy chest fur, softening the blow, “and you _destroyed my goddamn bar!”_

“Please, stop it!” Lee’s cries fell on deaf ears as the two men traded blows, yelling at each other. Angel let a few curses fly in his mother tongue, and Husk responded with rapid-fire Italian, gesticulating wildly. “Guys, please!” More tears rolled down her cheeks. At this point she suspected they weren’t even arguing about her anymore, all wrapped up in their own worries and gripes.

It was then that she felt it. A tremor, barely noticeable but unmistakable. Ripples formed on the surface of Angel’s half-finished martini. Another explosion nearby?

“What the fuck?!” Vaggie ran down the grand staircase, fuming. Both men began pointing and hurling accusations, talking over each other. She massaged her temples as they prattled on. “Charlie leaves for one hour, _one hour_ , and you two are already at each other’s throats?!”

“He started it!” Angel said.

“Damn right I did!” Husk snapped. “Stretch here spilled the fuckin’ beans about Lee to one of his gal pals _months_ ago, an’ somebody caught the whole thing on camera!”

“What?!” Vaggie’s face contorted in anger.

“So what if I did?!” Angel cried. “You and Blondie are the ones who had the brilliant fuckin’ idea to let a human stay here! Didya think you could keep her under wraps forever?! This is _Hell!_ Word was gonna get out eventually!”

The vibrations filtering up from the floor grew stronger. This time Husk seemed to notice, his ears pricking up as the glasses sitting behind the bar rattled slightly.

“Charlie trusted you!” Vaggie fired back. “ _I trusted you!_ ”

 _“Well ya shouldn’t have!”_ Angel was well and truly pissed now, eye twitching, fists balled at his sides. “God, ya coddle her like she’s a fuckin’ _baby!_ She’s a grown woman, she should learn ta take care of herself!”

“This isn’t her world! And you’re over a hundred! You should know better than to be so careless!”

“Keepin’ her here was careless! Throwin’ a fuckin _party_ an’ invitin’ a buncha gang-bangers to get wine wasted was careless! Lettin’ _Smiles_ start diggin’ his claws into her was—”

The lobby lights flickered, and he stopped short, looking upwards. The bottles of liquor on the shelf began to rattle, tinkling as they knocked against one another, shifting off and falling to the floor one by one. Husk swore, dashing behind the bar, trying to save some of the top-shelf stuff.

“Is it an earthquake?!” Lee had to raise her voice to be heard amidst the clamor of breaking glass.

“I don’t know, I—”

A creaking, groaning sound and the whirring of something mechanical drew closer and closer. The carpet in the middle of the lobby bulged upwards, tearing as the floorboards underneath splintered, sending shards of wood flying. Vaggie grabbed Lee by the arm, ushering her behind one of the couches as the windows shook and shattered. The lights blew out, leaving them in eerie semi-darkness as patches of mid-afternoon sunlight filtered in through broken windowpanes.

Something gave way, and Lee fell backwards, shrieking in terror as the floor exploded. Pieces of concrete and dirt were thrown into the air, blotting out the sun and sending debris flying. The roar of an engine filled the room as picture frames fell from the walls and decorative vases shattered. The women coughed as the room was blanketed with dust, using their shirts to filter the air as best they could, eyes watering. At last, the vibrations slowed and ceased, and they peeked out from behind their hiding spot.

Sitting in the middle of the lobby amidst a pile of dislodged rebar, concrete chunks and earth was a gigantic drill, a steampunk contraption that looked to be held together by little more than masking tape and prayers. There was a hissing sound as a hatch on the side popped open, unfurling a metal ramp.

“Ahhh-hahahaha!” Manic laughter rang out from the darkened opening. A figure slithered into view: a snake demon wearing a waistcoat and a giant top hat. What she could best describe as giant, sentient eggs wearing suits and wielding tasers, bats and cattle prods poured out of the door, waddling down the ramp on stubby legs.

“Oh shit,” Vaggie muttered.

“At lasssst!” the snake cried dramatically. “The human shall be mine!”

“You again?!” Angel said, sounding almost frustrated as he emerged from behind the bar, shaking shards of broken glass from his hair. Husk joined him, his fur matted with liquor from his fruitless attempts to salvage the bar’s stock.

“Yesssss, _me!_ ” he preened. He turned his attention towards her. “Rejoice, girl! It is an honor to be chosen to serve Sir Pentious! With your blood and the power of my machines, all of Pentagram City shall tremble before me!”

“Lee, get out of here, now!” Vaggie drew her spear, gritting her teeth.

Angel produced his trusty tommy gun, grinning while Husk clicked his claws together.

“Let’s dance, bitch!”

* * *

Alastor had been enjoying a lovely afternoon tea when he'd first felt it, the unmistakable itching at the back of his skull that told him something was wrong. He took another sip of his coffee, trying to hone in on the feeling. He’d always known to trust his instincts, both here and in the world above, but he didn’t want to insult his hostess by leaving unnecessarily. He’d been so wrapped up in his own ambitions that he’d been neglecting his social obligations as of late, so when Rosie requested his presence at tea with a more sternly worded note than usual, he’d known he had to make an appearance. He feigned attention as the ladies swapped gossip, waving his hand under the table and sending a shadow scout out to check on the hotel, just in case. Better safe than sorry.

“Oh, when are you going to bring her, Alastor?” Cordelia whined, taking a finger sandwich from the tray in front of them. “It’s not fair for you to keep her all to herself!”

“Yes, you simply must bring your new pet along next time!” Phoebe chimed in. “I have a new recipe for black pudding I’ve just been aching to try out, and she’d make a wonderful ingredient!”

“Ladies, ladies!” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve already told you, the little darling has yet to make a deal with me! She’s very headstrong, as I’ve said.”

“The infallible Alastor, bested by a mere girl?” Ethel said, amusement tinging her words. “The world really has turned upside-down.”

“Not bested,” he corrected her, “not by a long shot. I’ve just decided to let the chips fall where they may.”

“But why would you need a deal?” Cordelia pressed. “You could just snatch her up from under the princess’ nose!”

“I gave Charlie my word, Delia, and you know that my word is my bond.” He leaned back in his seat. “Besides, this is the best entertainment I’ve found in ages! She’s sharp as a whip, fiery and feisty, facing both Hell’s hazards and her own reservations head-on! I’ve exhausted nearly every tool in my arsenal, and while she’s been bruised and bent, she still hasn’t given in! Simply remarkable!”

“She must be quite something,” Ethel said, pouring Phoebe some more tea, “for you to speak about her in such glowing terms.”

Phoebe grinned. “All the more reason for you to bring us some samples!”

“Perhaps some other time, after our bargain is struck,” he waved the request away. “I understand you’re curious, ladies, but I do things by the book.”

“Yes, but even your ‘book’ is prone to amendments when convenient. It’s unusual for you to play so fair,” Rosie said casually. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually _liked_ this one.”

For a moment the man was speechless. Then he barked out a laugh. “Oh Rosie! You really are a card!” He shook his head, grinning. “No, no. While she’s provided me with ample amusement thus far, our game will be over any day now, and I’ll move on to greener pastures, like always. In the meantime, I simply don’t wish to spoil my fun prematurely.”

“I see,” Rosie took a sip of her tea, the barest curl of a smile on her face.

He opened his mouth to protest some more, but stopped short as his shadow scout burst into the room, a panicked look on its face. It made a beeline for its master, chittering and growling that something had gone wrong, that the hotel was under attack. Alastor stood, dusting off his waistcoat and dismissing the shadow.

“I’m terribly sorry ladies,” there was a twinge of worry in his voice, “but I must be going. There’s been some sort of incident at the hotel.”

“But we haven’t even served the scones!” Phoebe protested.

“I hate to leave such gorgeous company,” he shot the prim and proper demonesses a dashing wink as he pushed in his chair, “but duty calls, I’m afraid. I’ll be sure to stay longer next time.”

Bright smiles and the hint of a blush broke out on their faces, save for Rosie, who’d known Alastor long enough to separate flattery from genuine sentiment. “Go,” she said with a slight roll of her black eyes, “but next week I expect you to bring us some treats.”

“I’ll be sure to go hunting for you. Until next time, darlings!”

He waved farewell with a flourish, teleporting from Rosie’s tearoom to the street below. Demons gasped and scrambled to get out of the way as he jogged down the sidewalk, teleporting in and out of existence to speed his travel; Rosie’s home in Cannibal Colony and the hotel were on opposite sides of town, and as much as he hated to admit it, even his abilities had limitations. His mind raced, turning over the possibilities: Had Vox’s cronies tried to steal his human away? Had the street gangs joined forces and overpowered the mercenaries stationed outside the hotel?

He chastised himself internally. He knew he shouldn’t have gone to tea, or that he should’ve at least left Umbra or another one of his Shades to guard his little darling in his absence. But he’d been careless, dodging Rosie’s invitations for far too many weeks in a row, focused solely on his own designs, to the point where the relationship he’d carefully crafted over decades had started to suffer. And if he was to maximize the use of his asset, he’d need Rosie’s connections and expertise in inter-Circle trade. That is, if there was anything left of her by the time he got back.

He swore under his breath, hoping it wasn’t already too late.

* * *

“Die, you stupid fuckin’ eggs!”

Lee thrust a heavy iron fire poker through the shell of yet another of Sir Pentious’ minions, standing back-to-back with Vaggie as they tried to fight their way to the elevator. Another egg went for her shins, cattle prod crackling, and she bashed in his head with her makeshift weapon.

The lobby was in shambles: Bullets and laser blasts zinged through the smoky air as Husk and Angel faced off against their own hordes. The mercenaries who’d heard the commotion from outside the hotel had also joined the fray, tipping over furniture to use as makeshift shields. Most of the chairs had smoldering holes in them, and a few of the end tables were splintered beyond repair, joining the broken glass and debris that littered the ripped, ruined carpet. The serpent’s minions weren’t the smartest or the sturdiest, but they definitely had a numbers advantage. More eggs poured out of the open hatch in the drill as their master fired his ray-gun indiscriminately, monologuing all the while.

“I’m so _evil!”_ he practically shrieked with delight. “Go, you fried chicken fetusessss! Bring me what is rightfully mine! Soon, all of Hell will know the name of Sir—”

 _“AHHHHHH!”_ Niffty dove from the top of the drill, screaming like a banshee, kitchen knife in hand. She landed on his oversized top hat, and promptly began stabbing the shit out of it. “You! Are! Being! _Rude!”_

“Get your filthy hands off me, harlot!” Sir Pentious cried, trying to shake off the tiny cyclops.

Drawn by the sound of their master in distress, a few of the eggs ceased their assault, desperate to help. Lee spotted a clearing in the crowd and she sprinted for the staircase, knocking any stray baddies out of the way with her improvised weapon. She took the stairs two at a time, eyes fixed on the elevator—

Searing, shocking pain, shooting up her spine from her leg, burning her from the inside out. She collapsed backwards as her muscles went limp, rolling down the stairs, coming to rest at the feet of those damn eggs.

“I got her, Boss!” an egg called from the top of the staircase, crackling cattle prod in hand.

Their celebration was short lived, as two mercenaries closed in on the frightened human, shooting and stabbing the little creatures. Lee felt a momentary sigh of relief as one helped her to her feet, the other providing cover fire.

“You there!” Sir Pentious pointed at them, still struggling to dislodge a furious Niffty. “Ten grand to whoever helps me capture the human alive!”

Her heart sank as her soldiers looked at her, then at him, then each other. They shrugged, and quick as a flash her arms were wrenched behind her, cold metal handcuffs biting into her skin.

The tide of battle turned in an instant as the mercenaries fixed their guns on Angel, on Husk, on each other. Vaggie managed to take out a few with her throwing knives, but their covering fire soon had her pinned behind the bar, her cellphone pressed to her ear as she frantically tried to reach Charlie. Angel was quickly disarmed as thick, black chains wrapped around his torso and ankles.

“Let me go!” Lee cried. Niffty tried to intervene, but she barely made it two steps before she was snatched up by a soldier and thrown against the bar, knocking her out. A furious Husk took to the air, making a beeline for her, only to collapse to the ground as the barbs of a taser sank into his wing, shocking and stunning him momentarily.

 _“Shut up!”_ a soldier snapped. She was in their arms now, held by her shoulders and legs as her rescuers-turned-abductors carried her through the fray. The yawning hatch grew closer and closer, looking much like the maw of some great beast, set to swallow her whole.

“Lee!” Angel struggled against the chains holding him down.

 _“HELP ME!”_ Her voice was raw as she squirmed and screamed, trying to wriggle free of her captor’s grasp.

“I told you to shut up, you—”

There was a squelching sound as a tentacle of shadow burst through the mercenary’s chest, cracking through his ribs and showering her in spurts of red-black blood. The soldier’s eyes grew wide, his mouth frozen in a silent scream. His partner met the same fate as more shadows appeared, velvety and cold, cradling her as their temporarily lifeless bodies fell to the floor. She coughed and sputtered as the shadows gave way to what felt like arms hooking around her. Blinking the blood out of her eyes, a familiar grinning face came into focus.

“Hello, darling.”

“Alastor!” Sir Pentious cried, still wrapped up in his own dramatics even as chaos raged around him. “Once again, we find ourselves at odds, old foe!”

“I’m sorry, have we met?” he cocked his head at him.

“Oh yes we have!” he cried as Alastor set Lee back onto her feet, freeing her from her handcuffs with a flick of his wrist. “And while last time you may have bested me, this time you’ll find you’ve met your match!”

“Hmm… still not ringing a bell. Oh well.” They temporarily blinked out of existence, reappearing in the corner of the room. He summoned a chair, settling a shell-shocked Lee down in it. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked in hushed tones, wiping the blood from her face with his handkerchief. She nodded and he let out a small sigh of relief. “Good, good. Just sit tight for me, will you, dearest?” Another nod. “Good girl.” He waved his hand, and a wall of opaque, glowing red symbols encircled the chair. “There, much better.” He turned on his heel, facing the intruder and his lackeys with a ferocious look in his eyes. “And now that you’re comfortable…”

She’d heard the stories of Alastor’s power, read testimonials from survivors, watched staticky, half-corrupted footage of his battles on Voxtube. She’d even gotten a taste of his true, monstrous form on New Year’s. But this was entirely different: he stood tall with his back straight, poised yet _seething_ as he stared down his opponent, twirling his microphone staff. He snapped his fingers and portal opened at his feet. Skeletonized creatures spilled out, followed by cloth dolls with smiling, stitched mouths and the tendrils of shadows she was now so familiar with. He shot one last glance back at her over his shoulder, his grin growing wider.

“Let me give you a show.”

What followed was carnage: eggs and dolls rushed at each other, cracking shells and ripping out stuffing. The skeleton animals and shadows focused their attacks on the mercenaries, biting off limbs, punching holes through stomachs, and spilling enough blood to make her more than a little queasy. Yet despite everything, she couldn’t look away, a morbid curiosity keeping her eyes fixed on the man before her, his coattails billowing, his fingers flexing as he conducted a symphony of violence.

She’d known of his power, yes, but only in an abstract sense; it was another thing to witness it first-hand. There was an elegance to his movements, a macabre artistry that spoke to years of experience on the battlefield, honing his craft and defending his territory.

“You could join him,” a part of her whispered, “Stand by his side, not just safe, but powerful, _feared._ You wouldn’t have to hide anymore.”

The air was thick with glowing runes and the buzz of static as the shadows moved at his command, blood dripping off his gloves as he clenched his fists, crushing any unfortunates that wound up in their grasp. A few stray bullets pinged off of the shield he’d drawn around her, scaring Lee half to death. Alastor quickly zeroed in on the offending mercenary, and bile burned the back of her throat as his shadows swiftly beheaded him, then tossed his body aside like a broken toy. She knew it was temporary, that they’d re-generate eventually, but that didn’t quell the rising sense of panic that _this_ is what the man she’d rejected, insulted, and even harassed was truly capable of.

“That could be you,” a different, frightened voice insisted. “That could be _your_ body being ripped apart, _your_ blood painting the carpet. He could kill you in an instant.”

“Get back, you foul beasts!” Sir Pentious cried, shooting at the shadows with some sort of ray gun. But it was a fruitless endeavor: for every shadow tendril that was destroyed by his lasers, two more would sprout up in its place. They were moving at a more leisurely pace now that most of the intruders had been dispatched and disarmed, torturing the remainder by crushing bones, gouging out eyes, and tearing off limbs ever-so-slowly. Her stomach churned, terror overtaking her as she screwed her eyes shut and covered her ears, trying to block out their screams as Alastor played with his prey.

As he tried to _entertain_ her…

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“You’re missing my performance, dear!” He looked absolutely terrifying, a red “x” glowing on his forehead, pupils blown out, drunk on power as chaos raged behind him. “That’s rather _rude._ Are you not enjoying yourself?”

“Make it s-stop,” she stuttered. “Make it stop, please!”

There was a shift in the air as his eyes darkened, glazing over and growing hooded as he looked down at her. She pressed herself against the back of the chair, warning bells sounding in her head.

“Ask me again.” His tone was insistent, _commanding._

She shook her head no, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling in alarm. What was he doing? Was this some sort of trap?

He laughed, low and soft. “ _Ma belle ch_ _érie_ ,” he purred, dropping his radio voice entirely, “that was _not_ a request.” He grabbed her by the chin, the blood on his gloves tacky against her skin. “You want me to show them mercy, hmmm? You want the final curtain call to come so soon?” His hand drifted lower, resting against her throat, his touch feather-light as he leaned in. “Then make it worth my while, sweet thing…” there was a hint of a growl that made her shiver, his breath tickling the shell of her ear, “and _beg._ ”

Dread and fear, heat and curiosity bloomed in her chest as his eyes met hers once more, her mind a jumbled, panicked mess. His thumb lazily stroked the side of her neck as she started to shake.

She swallowed hard. _“Please.”_ It came out in a strained whisper, barely audible over the sound of her own pulse in her ears. “Please, let them go, Alastor.”

His expression softened, as if some of the bloodlust clouding his thoughts had dissipated. “There we go,” he cooed, his voice laced with what almost sounded like affection. “Now, was that so hard, darling?” He removed his hand and straightened, turning his attention back to the intruders.

Runes and symbols swirled around him as thick, huge tendrils of shadow rose from the floor, collecting their victims and throwing them inside the drill, saving a screaming Sir Pentious for last. The door slammed shut, and shadows wrapped around the machine like vines, covering it in belts of darkness. He clenched his fist, grinning, and the squealing sound of metal-on-metal and the crackle of electricity filled the air as the drill was crushed, compacted to the point where it was barely recognizable. The shadows reared up, taking the form of a gigantic hand, and hurled the hunk of metal out of the hotel, punching a hole in the wall and annihilating the brand-new double doors with a thundering _crash._

Lee’s took a shuddering breath as the dust settled, the lobby now eerily quiet save for the crackle of a few small fires and the faint sound of car alarms outside.

“And… scene!” Alastor said brightly, that chipper Trans-Atlantic affect now back in place as he bowed dramatically. He wrenched her to her feet with all his usual flair. “What a stimulating turn of events! We should get attacked more often, dearest, that was quite entertaining!”

“What the fuck, Alastor?!” Vaggie emerged from behind the bar, looking bruised and disheveled. “We just bought those!”

“I know, what a shame! I just a-door-ed them!” He laughed. “But I’m sure you’ll be able to find money in the budget for another set!”

“There’s barely enough room in the budget for—” Her eye fell on Lee and she stopped short. “We don’t have the money!”

“Well, perhaps our dear princess had some luck this morning drumming up more support,” he said, waving at someone behind her. “Welcome home, darling!” he called.

A stunned Charlie stood hunched over in the hole that was once the front door, hands on her knees, chest heaving as though she’d just been running.

“W… wha…?” She gaped at them in disbelief as she tried to catch her breath.

“I’m afraid you missed all the action, my dear! That snake fellow and his cronies decided to try to snatch up our precious guest,” he lightly pinched Lee’s cheek, “but yours truly was able to take care of them post-haste!”

“Take care of ‘em?” Angel said incredulously as Husk unwound the chains binding him. “Ya fuckin’ _slaughtered_ ‘em!”

Alastor grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh no no _no!”_ Niffty was already zipping about the lobby, taking care to avoid the giant hole left behind by the drill, sweeping up dislodged earth and bits of broken glass. “Everything’s so dirty! We’ll have to replace the floor, and the carpet, and the furniture, and the windows…”

“Tell me about it,” Husk muttered as Niffty prattled on, inspecting the remains of the ruined bar.

Lee fidgeted with the hem of her shirt as her friends surveyed the damage, guilt tying knots in her stomach.

“Hon?” Vaggie asked quietly, her eye still fixed on her girlfriend as she picked her way through the rubble. Charlie looked absolutely crestfallen, her shoulders sagging, her yellow eyes growing glassy.

“I… I uh…” There was a waver in her voice. “I need to make a few calls. Excuse me.”

“Charlie,” Vaggie tried to get her to stop as she power-walked past her, making a beeline for her office. “ _Querida,_ wait!” But the princess just kept going, her bone-white face growing red around her nose, tears spilling down her cheeks as she brushed past Alastor and Lee, and Vaggie had no choice but to follow her.

“Charlie, I’m sor—” Lee started.

“Don’t. Just… don’t.” Vaggie cut her off, glaring at her over her shoulder as she hurried after her distraught partner. Her fists were balled at her sides, shaking with anger, her words short and clipped:

“You’ve already done enough.”

* * *

“Vaggie and I need to talk to you in the morning.”

Her vision clouded as she read the text over and over and over again, as if doing so would make it disappear, would make _her_ disappear.

She’d gotten it hours ago, skin now sticky with dust and sweat instead of blood, as she tried in vain to put the hotel’s broken pieces back together, boarding up windows and covering the hole in the wall with plywood. A part of her had known it was coming, that it was only a matter of time, especially after something like this, but that didn’t stop her heart from seizing in her chest as her anxiety spiked. Niffty had been kind enough ( _pitied her enough,_ an angry voice hissed) to let her go early, and she’d barely made it to her room by the time the first sobs started.

And now here she was, puffy-eyed and sniffling, curled up in bed as the walls closed in. She couldn’t sleep, could hardly think. Dread had made a home in her, slithering under her ribs and setting her heart racing. She was too hot and too cold all at once, her skin tight and tingling, sweat beading on her brow as her breath came in short, painful gasps. She felt coiled up, tight as a spring, with even a second hot shower doing little to relax her tense, trembling muscles.

They hated her. She could see it in the way they looked at her, in the way their eyes twitched and the corners of their mouths turned, in the way they walked and talked and moved. Maybe they always had, maybe she’d been too blind, too naïve to see it before.

They were going to send her away, throw her away like garbage. God, she really was garbage, wasn’t she? She’d been nothing but a leech. It would’ve been better if she never came here, if she’d just kept walking, if she’d never decided to go to that job interview, if she’d never moved to New York.

If she’d died on that gurney.

_“Oh, don’t you give me that shit!”_ Angel’s words echoed in her ears. _“This is no time ta throw a pity party!”_

 _Angel._ She’d trusted him, confided in him. She’d forgiven him for New Years, for the incident on their shopping trip, for the photo. She’d let him in. And he’d betrayed her. It was a lie by omission, but a lie nonetheless, and intent aside, he’d put her in danger, put them all in danger. He’d lead Vox and Valentino straight to her, straight to the hotel, straight to her room, oh God _they knew which room she was in—_

She scrambled out of bed, a fresh wave of panic washing over her, scurrying out of the dark and into the dimly lit hallway. They were coming for her. In just a few hours Vox’s henchmen would be there, asking her one last time to sign herself away. And if she didn’t, then Valentino—

 _No!_ No, she wasn’t going to let that happen. Not again. _Nobody_ was going to hurt her like that again.

She wasn’t going to hide anymore, to be a burden, to be a coward.

She knew what she had to do.

Even though it terrified her.

Her legs moved of their own accord as she padded down the hall. She took the staircase carefully, eyes fixed on her bare feet, avoiding jagged concrete pebbles and shards of glass. Past the hole in the middle of the lobby, past the remains of the bar, past Charlie’s office, where she could hear the muffled sound of an argument.

Light filtered out from the crack in the doorframe. He was still awake.

Of course he was. He was waiting for her, just like he said he would.

Truly a man of his word.

She raised a trembling hand.

_Knock knock-knock-knock knock, knock knock._

Her heart beat double, then triple time as the doorknob turned.

“I want to make a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the endgame now, dear readers! This is the longest chapter I've written thus far, and it took me a while to get everything to fit together mostly-alright, so I hope you enjoyed it. Also, yes, Rosie's friends are the fancy cannigals from the Alastor comic (minus dear departed Franklin), and yes, I just had to add in that little something-something ;) for those of you who've been so patient with me, even thought it broke up the flow a bit.
> 
> I'd also like to thank you all for the supportive comments and well wishes! It makes having to leave a little easier, knowing so many people out there support me and want me to get better. Entertaining you all makes me so happy, as does giving life to my interpretations of all these wonderful characters. I'm well aware we're going to go far, far from canon as our tale progresses (for example: Alastor is probably going to be more like a sadistic, slimy used car salesman in canon, and is canonically aroace) but I'm glad I have you all along for the ride!
> 
> Also, an extra special thank you to those of you who have been sharing this story with your friends or other people in the fandom! It brings me immense joy to know my weird little story is helping to bring people together, in some strange, abstract way. I love reading your comments and seeing you react to the twists and turns I throw your way. This process has been great for me mentally, and made me determined to write my own, original novel in the future! :D
> 
> And now... it's time for me to play dictator again, and give y'all some more selections from my writing playlist! As usual, skip 'em if you want, I just think this is a super fun thing to do. <3
> 
> **Three Songs, Three Characters: Angel, Charlie and Lee**
> 
> **Angel:**
> 
> 1\. "6 inch" by Beyoncé (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UKMmfBkrhtY)
> 
> A fun, sexy, slightly vengeful song! This is basically Angel's "ideal self" song, what he wants to aspire to be, and how he wants to be perceived. Also, if you ever get a chance to see Bey live when the world opens up again, DO IT!!!! I did and it was fantastic.
> 
> 2\. "idontwannabeyouanymore" by Billie Eilish (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tn2S3kJlyU)
> 
> And now we're in angst territory! Angel's views on his situation, as well as his abusive "relationship" with Valentino.
> 
> 3\. "Chandelier" by Charlie Puth (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dWInNGhwidQ)
> 
> Linking the cover here because Sia is a terrible person, and the mood of this version fits Angel better. This speaks to his partying hard and substance abuse issues, covering the pain he feels.
> 
> **Charlie:**
> 
> 1\. "It's Alright" by Mother Mother (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5-KJgVsoUM)
> 
> I see this song as Charlie reassuring Angel or the other demons who come under her care, encouraging them, full of hope and positivity. Also, just a kick-ass song lmao
> 
> 2\. "Broken Crown" by Mumford and Sons (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXzDu071RdQ)
> 
> A bit of angst now! I see this song as emblematic of Charlie's relationship with her father, something we'll explore more in Act Two.
> 
> 3\. "Stand By You" by Rachel Platten (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwB9EMpW8eY)
> 
> This is one of my go-to Chaggie songs, loving and supportive, upbeat despite what circumstances they find themselves in.
> 
> **Lee:**
> 
> 1\. "still feel." by half-alive (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yFw41zKqMTk)
> 
> This is the song that most screams "Lee" to me, given her situation. It's also a really great song! I've linked the version with an accompanying orchestra above, but the original recording is just as good. 
> 
> 2\. "Blood on My Name" by The Brothers Bright (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPSUtaW_oBo)
> 
> Just take a listen, should be self-explanatory lol
> 
> 3\. "I Like That" by Janelle Monáe (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uovntV3ZMDc)
> 
> This song basically describes Lee's "ideal self," who she aspires to be.
> 
> **Bonus: Alastor, Act Two**
> 
> 1\. "Party Raiser" by Lyre Le Temps (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WObZbHQEO3I)
> 
> Super fun song about Prohibition and 20s-style partying! Also very groove-able.
> 
> 2\. "Can I Get A Witness" by SonReal (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pyXhsTTD0Tk)
> 
> Al's a confident, cocky bastard, and this song exemplifies it. Great music video too!
> 
> 3\. "Movement" by Hozier (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nc7tV0lRfYY)
> 
> "You're less Polunin leapin'  
> Or Fred Astaire in sequins  
> Honey, you, you're Atlas in his sleepin'  
> And when you move, I'm moved
> 
> When you move  
> I can recall somethin' that's gone from me  
> When you move  
> Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free"
> 
> ;) (Big shout-out to Emeisle for getting me to listen to more Hozier!)
> 
> See you next week <3


	33. Fine Print

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bargain is struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Act One finale is here, dear readers, and it's even longer than the last chapter! 
> 
> We also broke 500 kudos last week, so there's double the reason to celebrate! The reception this story has gotten has been a dream come true, and I'm so grateful to all of you.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Alastor looked down at her, eyes wide, his grin frozen on his face.

“I’m sorry, what did you say, darling?” he asked, sounding mildly shocked.

“You heard me.” She fiddled with the hem of her pajama shirt, shifting her weight from side to side. “I want to make a deal.”

 _Don’t do this,_ a voice in her head was screaming. _Walk away. You shouldn’t be doing this._

“And you’re absolutely sure?”

_“Fucking bitch.”_

_“This is a limited-time offer! And given you’re already on limited time…”_

_“I could still make a lot of money with a pretty little thing like you…”_

_“She’s a grown woman, she should learn ta take care of herself!”_

_“You’ve already done enough.”_

“Y-yes.” She cursed herself internally, unable to keep the stutter from her voice as memories swirled in her head.

His smile settled into something smug as his eyes grew hooded, his posture relaxing.

“I see,” he drawled. “Come in then, dearest.” Moving slowly, as if not to spook her, he beckoned her inside, his hand pressing lightly against her mid-back as he steered her towards a chair in front of his desk. Frazzled and on the edge of breaking, she plopped down, wobbly legs giving way.

“Comfortable?” he asked, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. There was no hint of showmanship in his tone, his radio voice stripped away, leaving only his natural accent.

 _No,_ she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue. She was sure she looked pathetic, showing up at his office door in the middle of the night, eyes puffy, nose running, hair all messy. Humiliation and anxiety brewed in her belly, an acrid cocktail that set her leg bouncing, bare feet against the hardwood floor.

The soft sound of jazz filtered through an old speaker filled the room as he shed his coat, hanging it on a hook by his desk. The vest he wore was also red, a faint damask pattern shining in the firelight, and she could see the jagged edge of a scar on the back of his neck peeking out from under the collar of his dress shirt. While he cut a more natural figure like this, still broad-shouldered and trim but not excessively so, his relative state of undress only managed to set her more on edge. He waved his hand and a silver beverage cart appeared, filled with glasses and bottles, dark liquor in a crystal decanter, and a small bowl of citrus fruits.

“Lemonade or tea?” he asked, his back to her as he dropped a few ice cubes into a glass.

“Uh…”

“No magic this time, I promise.”

“Tea, please.” Fine red and white china appeared on her side of the massive desk: a teapot, a cup and saucer, cream and sugar, and a small plate piled high with something brown and sweet-looking.

“Pecan pralines,” he offered as he fixed himself a drink. Her hands shook as she mirrored the gesture, spilling a few spots of tea onto the mahogany. “Too sweet for my tastes, but you should enjoy them.”

She took a tentative bite, brown sugar and butter exploding onto her tongue. He summoned a small paring knife, removing a thin ribbon of orange peel, his movements practiced and fluid, experienced.

 _Good with a knife,_ she noted with a shiver, eyes flickering to the scar on her arm.

“You, uh,” she tried to break the strange tension between them, feeling awkward, “you do this with all your clients?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t kiss and tell, cher,” he said with a wink.

She felt herself flush as he sauntered over, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. He looked like he was in his element, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled together, a satisfied smile on his face; a sharp contrast to the nervous wreck across from him.

“I take it you’ve never made a deal before?” he asked. “Not to worry, I’ll help you through it.”

A chill ran down her spine as she recalled the carnage the man had caused just hours before in the name of entertainment. Whatever his idea of “help” was, she didn’t want it.

He seemed to notice her hesitation, his expression softening a little. “Relax, sweetheart. There’s no need to be nervous. We’ll start with the basics and go from there.” He took a light sip of his cocktail. “First, there’s the matter of confidentiality. If we’re even to begin having this conversation, I’ll need you to agree to let me bind your tongue before you go.”

She shook her head vigorously, stomach churning as a vision of Alastor ripping her tongue out flashed in her mind.

“I’ve done it before, cher.” He tapped the corner of his mouth. “The night you asked me for a favor.”

_A blade glinting in the firelight, rivulets of red, his mouth drawing closer, closer—_

“Think of it as insurance for yours truly should you choose to back out mid-negotiation,” he continued. “I’ll bind my own too, if it puts you more at ease. Discretion on both ends.” She must have still looked uncertain, as he added: “I know it’s unpleasant, but I really must insist. The princess may be kind-hearted, but she’s still Lucifer's daughter, and I would be putting myself at great risk if she were to find out about our little arrangement.” He cocked his head at her. “And given that you still wish to stay here rather than at one of my estates, it’s best to keep ourselves in her good graces.”

She swallowed hard. He had a point, unfortunately. “Okay.”

“Of course, such precautions wouldn’t be necessary if you chose to move out and take up residence in my—”

 _“No.”_ There was no way she was going to let that happen.

He paused. “Very well then. Moving right along,” he swirled his drink. “What is it that you want?”

“Well, I, uh…” She took another gulp of tea to alleviate the sudden dryness in her throat. “I want you to protect me.”

“In exchange for…?”

“My blood.” A flash of panic seized in her just saying it out loud. “And I want everything in writing,” she said, recalling the advice she’d gotten from her friends prior to her ill-fated job interview: _always_ get everything in writing.

He raised an eyebrow, his perma-smile melting into something genuine. “Clever girl. That’s a good start, darling, well done.” A wave of his hand and a piece of parchment appeared on the desk, covered with dark red cursive.

“Whereas the first party, known as Lee, henceforth referred to as the Signator, and the second party, Alastor the Radio Demon, henceforth referred to as the Dealmaker, do enter into this contract, _consensus ad idem_ , the two of them acting in _bona_ and _mala fides_ , respectively, _ab initio_ on this Thirteenth of January, in the Year…” Her head was swimming as she took in the barely comprehensible legalese.

“Can you take out the fancy Latin stuff?” she asked. He snapped his fingers, and the text was immediately translated into French. A spike of irritation ran through her. “In _English_ , please?” He smirked and snapped once more.

“This contract sets out details of the agreement between the Signator, known as Lee, and the Dealmaker, Alastor the Radio Demon, negotiated on January 13th…” A bit of the tension in her muscles dissipated. It was still long, but at least now she could understand what it was saying.

“This doesn’t say how much blood I have to give you,” she said, skimming the document.

“Indeed it doesn’t. As the timeframe you wish to be under my protection is indeterminant, so is the amount of blood I’m owed.”

“No,” she shook her head, “no, that’s not gonna work. You could just bleed me dry and be done with it.”

“You really think I would do that to you?” She shot him a withering stare, and he acquiesced. “Fine, fine. We’ll portion things out then: one week for one liter of blood.”

“Absolutely not!” she balked. “That’s way too much!”

“Two pints, then,” he said with a grin.

“I know how many pints are in a liter, Alastor,” she said, rolling her eyes. “One pint for two month’s protection.”

“How about this: two pints the first week, then one pint every week after.”

“That’s still too often. You can only donate blood a few times a year. I’d get sick.”

“I’ll draw a sigil on you after every session. It will restore your strength, replenish you and keep you healthy enough to continue.” He cocked his head at her. “That’s my final offer.”

She paused, weighing her options. “Why two the first week?”

“You’re an untouched source, virgin blood unmarred by dark magic,” he said. “You’ve yet to be an ingredient in any demonic rituals, dear, so any blood taken from you before I begin distribution will be especially valuable.”

“How valuable?”

He grinned. “Enough that someone would give an arm and a leg, literally, to have a taste.”

She shuddered. Cannibalism and organ harvesting were slightly more socially acceptable in Hell than on the surface, what with its denizens’ regenerative abilities, but the idea of someone hacking off and selling their limbs to pay for her blood made her queasy.

“If that’s true,” she said carefully, “then I want a cut. Not for me, but for the hotel.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Explain.”

“Well, you said we have to keep on Charlie’s good side, to help keep things secret. If the hotel starts bringing in more money, maybe they’ll decide to let me stay.”

He considered her proposal. “They would have to be anonymous donations…” he muttered, more to himself then to her. “Fair enough. A portion of the profits I make, let’s say, twenty percent, will instead be given to the hotel.”

“Wait, really?”

“I am not an unreasonable man. As much as I would love to see the princess’ endeavor fail, there’s still plenty of entertainment to be had here, and I’m never one to cut the fun short.”

_Sitting on a hotel bed, covered in blood, those same words ringing in her ears as his finger traced her scar—_

“So, are we in agreement, then?” he asked, shaking her out of her thoughts.

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah. One pint a week, plus magicky stuff, sounds good to me.” Her words came out in a rush, embarrassment brewing in her that she’d spaced out in the middle of their conversation. “Are we done now?”

He laughed lightly. “Oh no, sweetheart. That was just the first clause. We have a dozen more to go.”

She let out a heavy sigh. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

“Are you finished yet?” Alastor called from his seat by the fireplace, a note of boredom clear in his voice.

“Almost,” she said, scanning the document for the umpteenth time, taking a bite out of yet another praline.

They’d been at this for over an hour now, and it was clear Alastor’s patience was wearing thin. She didn’t care though; this was her life on the line, not his. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right.

She’d already quashed a few clever loopholes and clarified some of the contract’s infuriatingly vague language: “every week” became “once every seven days, barring illness or injury,” and “safe” became “reasonably healthy, safe and comfortable” after she pointed out he could let her suffer grievous injury without being in breach of their agreement. He insisted on keeping the word “reasonably” in there though, given that Hell was by its nature hazardous.

“A bit of ambiguity isn’t the end of the world, cher.” Alastor looked up from his book, his smile strained.

“For you, maybe,” she muttered, taking another sip of the coffee she’d substituted for tea long ago. “’Reasonably’ still leaves a hell of a lot of wiggle room.”

“So does ‘illness or injury,’” he countered, “But I don’t expect you to skip out on your obligations because you got a papercut.”

She stifled a yawn. “ _Fine_.”

And on and on they went, debating and bargaining long into the night, until her eyelids were heavy and her legs were slightly numb from sitting for so long. At last, she reached the final clause.

“Okay, no. This one isn’t going to work,” she said. “’For the duration of this contract and hereafter, the Signator will be placed under the ownership of the Dealmaker,’” she read out loud. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s merely to make the contract enforceable, solidifies my obligation to protect you,” he waved away her concerns. “Nothing to worry about, sweetheart.”

_A sickle-sharp smile, a green glow in the dark—_

“It sounds like I’d be selling myself to you, selling my—” she stopped short, a flame of anger igniting in her. “Are you trying to get me to sell my soul?!”

“Dearest, I have many thousands of souls in my possession. I have no need of yours.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Are you—” The gears in her head turned and clicked together. “Alastor, does this mean I’d be making a totum bond?!”

A squeal of radio interference. “Now, wherever did you hear about those?” His smile was tight.

“Charlie told me about them, told me Overlords like you try to trick humans into giving themselves up.”

“That they do,” he said coolly. “But do you really think I would do such a thing to you, precious?”

 _“Yes!”_ she snapped. “It’s eternal slavery, in both life _and_ death! That sounds like exactly the kind of fucked-up shit you’d try to pull!”

“Darling, I’m hurt!” he put his hand over his heart in a facsimile of shock. “I’ve been so good to you; do you really think so little of me in return?”

 _“This,”_ she pointed to the scar on her arm, “isn’t being ‘good’ to anyone, Alastor!”

His eyes narrowed. “On the contrary, my dear. You’ve got all sorts down here, especially those in Mr. Dust’s line of work, some of whom would be _very_ pleased to—”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she deadpanned, heat blooming on her cheeks.

“Regardless, you named the terms of that agreement,” he said pointedly. “I only took what I was offered, and I kept my word, as always.”

_Lies by omission, the weight of reputation—_

An idea sparked in the back of her mind.

“Alastor,” she said carefully, “if I sign this, do you _give me your word_ that I wouldn’t be selling my soul, that I wouldn’t be forging a totum bond with you?”

Garbled noise and voices talking over each other burst from him as he drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair, his eye twitching slightly as his jaw clenched.

“I need an answer, or we’re done here.”

Silence.

_"Alastor…”_

_“Yes,”_ he said through gritted teeth. “Yes, I give you my word.” He stood, rolling some of the tension from his shoulders.

“And the rest of it, do you—”

“I give you my word. They contract will be enforced as written.” A chill ran down her spine as he walked towards her, a wave of static stinging her skin. “Take a look.”

She glanced back at the paper. The final clause had been removed, replaced with: “The Signator’s body and soul will remain solely in her possession for the rest of her life. During her time in Hell, the Signator will remain the under the domain and protection of the Dealmaker, superseding any and all agreements, contracts, bonds, orders and promises on the part of either party. Should the Dealmaker be erased or otherwise removed from Hell, this contract is null and void.”

“There. Legally enforceable, without you giving up your soul. I even threw in a clause freeing you from our agreement should I end up meeting my second demise.” He took his seat across from her, looking as imperious as ever. “That was very clever, my darling. I’m impressed.”

_Red-stained teeth, spindly fingers and black tar—_

She shivered. He certainly didn’t _sound_ impressed. If anything, he sounded pissed off. Still, she felt a warm burst of pride that she’d been able to beat the bastard at his own game. She quickly skimmed the rest of the page:

“The Dealmaker will collect one standard pint of blood from the Signator every seven days, barring illness or injury on the part of either party. After each donation, the Dealmaker will apply a restoration sigil…”

"The Dealmaker may draw up to one half-cup of blood in between donations from the Signator for emergency or personal use..."

“The Signator will accompany the Dealmaker when necessary to business meetings and trips regarding the sale of her blood, in order to maximize profit…”

“The Dealmaker will anonymously donate twenty percent of his profits from the sale of the Signator’s blood to the Hazbin Hotel, which will serve as the Signator’s primary residence, barring concerns over her safety and security which necessitate moving her to a secondary location…”

“If a deal is made in which favors or other goods are offered as payment, the Dealmaker will make a donation equivalent to twenty percent of the offered goods or service’s monetary value…”

“The Signator will be kept reasonably safe, healthy and comfortable. The Dealmaker will use all resources and powers at his disposal to protect the Signator from external threats and ensure the enforcement of this contract…”

“Should either party be found in breach of this contract, a fine, equivalent to one cup of blood or one reasonable favor, will be granted by the offending party to the other…”

“The Signator will maintain good health, and not engage in behaviors damaging to the quality of her blood, including but not limited to drinking to excess before a donation, use of addictive drugs, or unsafe sexual contact with others…”

She’d told Alastor numerous times that that particular stipulation was wholly unnecessary, but he’d insisted, claiming he wasn’t sure how much Angel had rubbed off on her. The comment left a sour taste in her mouth. Cooking with him, dancing with him, all those hours spent shooting the shit at the bar or watching soap operas in bed as she recovered, all of it had been built on a lie. He’d cracked the foundation of their strange friendship, possibly irreparably, and the wound still stung.

She knew he had issues with substance abuse and impulse control, and a soft, needy part of her wanted to forgive him, desperate to connect with someone semi-decent in this hellish realm. But she knew she couldn’t, not now, not yet. It was time for her to be strong, not a doormat that demons like him could walk all over. If she wanted to get home, if she wanted to _survive_ , she had to be brave, even if it meant going forward alone.

Even if it meant making a deal.

“Are you ready to sign?” She jumped as Alastor’s voice shook her from her thoughts. He tapped the space for her signature at the bottom of the parchment.

She shook her head. “You first.”

He pulled a red quill pen from thin air, signed his name in quick, neat cursive, and returned the contract to her. “There. Now you.” An identical quill appeared in her hand. “And I’ll need your legal name, dear.”

“Is that really necessary?” She didn’t know if telling him her real name would do any harm, but given she didn’t know how demon deals or Hell magic worked, she wasn’t taking any chances.

“Maybe,” he grinned.

“I highly doubt ‘the Radio Demon’ is your real last name.”

He chuckled, flipping the page around once more, crossing out his signature and adding another beside it. “Better?”

“Alastor Thi… Ti…” she squinted, trying to make it out. Whatever it was, it was _long._

“Alastor Thibodeaux Guillory Moreau. Don’t wear it out, sweetheart.” He shot her a wink, tapping his quill expectantly by the blank space for her name. “And now that I’ve shown you mine,” he drawled, “why don’t you show me yours?”

She flushed, reading through the entire document once, twice, three more times. A thought occurred to her: “What if I die? What if my body dies while I’m still down here?” It was a horrifying concept, one she usually tried to keep out of her mind, but she had to ask.

His expression brightened. “That’s the most exciting part, my dear! I don’t know!” He tilted his head to the side. “Your soul could shoot up to Heaven, remain trapped here in Hell, or you could disappear entirely. You’re quite the oddity, little darling, so it’s anyone’s guess, really! A true one-of-a-kind spectacle!”

The nonchalance with which he discussed the fate of her soul didn’t sit right with her. “What about this body? If I ‘die' down here, could I wake up back on the surface?”

He shook his head. “I highly doubt that. As far as I can tell a fatal wound sustained down here would be a wound to your soul as well as your manifested body, and as you lack the regeneration abilities of sinners and hellborns, I suspect you’d end up being erased. A tragedy, really.” He leaned forward, his hands clasped together. “All the more reason why you need me by your side, to watch over you.” His smile was restrained yet dripped with satisfaction. “So, what do you say? Do we have a deal?”

 _No! No no no don’t do this!_ Part of her was screaming, begging her to leave, to run while she still could.

 _But you’re already trapped,_ another voice said, melancholy and resigned. _They’re coming for you. Vox is coming,_ Valentino _is coming—_

_Dark._

_Hands._

_Tongue._

_Squeeze._

_Fear._

The quill shook as she scrawled “Lee” on the dotted line.

_Never again._

“Fantastic!” he crowed. There was a light _pop_ as he blinked out of existence, reappearing beside her as he pulled her to her feet. “That’s the first step done, my dear! Of course, I would have preferred your real name, but I suppose I could let it slide!”

“The first step?” she asked, wobbling slightly, pins and needles shooting down her legs. “I thought we were finished.”

He grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. “Oh no, darling. The handshake is what seals the deal, the rest is just window dressing.” He cocked his head at her. “Why do you ask? Having second thoughts already?”

“Does it matter?” she shrugged, feigning nonchalance as best she could.

He opened his mouth to reply, then paused. “Precious, is something wrong?”

“No,” she mumbled. “I’m fine.”

He clicked his tongue at her. “You should know better than to try to lie to me, cher.”

“I’m not lying!” she snapped, fighting the sensation of fresh tears prickling at her eyes. “Why do you care anyway, asshole?! You’re already getting what you want! You _won!_ ” Her voice broke as her vision went watery. Ashamed, she looked away. She was supposed to be brave, to be strong. Why couldn’t she stop crying?

A tense silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of her sniffles. Slowly, carefully, he extended his hand, taking hold of her wrist.

“Come.” That commanding tone was back in his voice, but this time it was gentler, softer somehow. He gave a light tug. “Sit with me.”

“But—”

“Hush.” He guided her towards the fireplace. A wave of his hand and the two armchairs snapped together like magnets, dissolving partially and transforming into a small sofa. He sat her down, moving to sit a few respectful inches away as he handed her a handkerchief.

“Now, I need you to be honest, sweetheart: what made you decide to finally make a deal?”

She said nothing, clutching a red pillow to her chest like a shield.

“Did something happen? Were you hurt?” His brows knit together in worry. “Darling, is someone forcing you to do this?”

She shook as she tried to keep from crying out, a few tears beginning to spill despite her best efforts.

He took her hand in his. “Please tell me, Lee.”

_A hand on her back, shared breaths and sweet words—_

Something delicate and aching inside her broke, and words poured out of her like a river: the video of Angel, the text from Charlie, the call from Valentino. He listened quietly, taking everything in, running his thumb over her knuckles as she spoke. His grip tightened slightly when she told him the details of Valentino’s threat, his eyes growing dark.

“Listen to me very carefully,” he said, his smile a barely-there curve, deadly serious. “With or without a deal, no one will dare hurt you in that manner. I will kill anyone who tries. Do you understand?”

She nodded, her throat closing up.

There was a flicker of indecision in his eyes before he spoke: “That night, when I healed you…” He paused, as if he were choosing his words carefully. “You were frightened. Not just by me, but by something else. Something from your past.” She tried to look away, shame brewing in her belly, but he cupped her cheek, turning her back towards him. “I will not ask you what it was, nor will I ask you to dwell on it. But if it’s what I suspect, simply know that if you decide you’d still like to make a deal with me, no such fate would ever befall you. I have little interest in sins of the flesh, but even if I did, I would never, _ever_ touch you intimately without your permission. I give you my word.”

“I’m s-s-sorry,” she stuttered. _For crying, for being weak, for everything._

“No, no, don’t apologize, dearest. We all have our ghosts, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Another small sob escaped her, and she felt the overwhelming urge to throw her arms around him, to hide away from the world with him as her shield. Instead, she gave his hand a light squeeze as she dried her eyes, trying to control her ragged breathing like he’d shown her.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed. “Breathe with me. In,” he inhaled, “out. Nice and steady.”

The fire crackled as he eased her down, smoothing over her broken parts, settling the stormy sea inside her. Part of her wondered why he chose to hide this part of himself away, why he wouldn’t choose kindness over his natural, more violent impulses. Maybe he _couldn’t_ , maybe he simply lacked the capacity to think and feel as others do, to empathize easily. Or perhaps he himself was afraid, too scared to reach out, to form those sorts of connections. Questions swirled in her head as she drank in his chaste attentions, letting herself get lost in the feeling of his thumb tracing slow circles on the back of her hand.

At last he withdrew, and some small part of her mourned the loss of contact.

“Feeling a bit better?” he asked, his tone light. She nodded and he smiled, a real smile, one that reached his eyes. “Good.” He stood, offering his hand. “Now, shall we make things official?”

“I…” she hesitated as he helped her to her feet.

“I know you’re nervous, cher, but you’ve already come so far.” The firelight cast a warm glow onto half of his face, leaving the other drenched in shadow. “Just think of all the good you could do for the hotel, of how happy Charlie will be when donations start rolling in. She could afford to repair the lobby, renovate the rooms, even sponsor more sinners looking for a second chance. You could give that to her, my darling.” He tilted his head to the side. “Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to repay her for all she’s done for you?”

_Overheard arguments behind closed doors, worried faces and one-eyed glares—_

Guilt, acrid and heavy, settled in her chest, and she looked away. Charlie and Vaggie had already sacrificed months of work and who knows how much money trying to keep her hidden, and she didn’t want to be a burden anymore.

“And you’d be safe,” he said, gentle, reassuring. “You could focus on finding your way back home, on figuring out how you ended up here. You could _save yourself_.”

As much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. She’d exhausted all the books in the hotel’s library and scoured the Infernet for advice on how to get back to the surface, all to no avail. Alastor had connections, resources she could exploit. Maybe she’d be able to meet someone through him, another Overlord or a hellborn demon, who could help her find answers.

“Of course, you could always back out,” he said with a slight shrug. “I’d be disappointed, yes, but I wouldn’t be upset with you.”

She met his gaze in surprise. “You mean you’d let me go? Even after I already signed?”

“But of course, my dear. As I said, the handshake is what forges our agreement. And if you do decide to leave, you still wouldn’t have to worry about that rat-faced pimp and his henchmen. I would take care of them for you.” His tone turned serious. “I know this is difficult for you, but this is your decision, little darling. Not mine, not his, yours.”

 _He’s giving you an out,_ a voice in her head said. _Take it! Turn around, forget this ever happened, never speak of it again!_

 _But what about next time?_ a worried voice whispered. _There will be more attacks, more destruction, more danger. It’s only a matter of time before someone gets to you._

She swallowed hard, indecision brewing in her gut. “Will it hurt?” she wavered.

He paused, as if mulling over her question. “Yes.”

“Badly?”

“Yes.” He seemed to sense her hesitation, and he quickly added, “But only for a little while. I can ease the pain afterwards.”

Such an offer from someone who seemed to otherwise relish in other’s discomfort was entirely unexpected. “Promise?”

“You have my word,” he said firmly, a small smile on his face.

 _Don’t do this,_ part of her urged her. _You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t even be_ considering _this! Walk. Away._

 _And go back to being useless? To being a burden?!_ another part argued. _You said you wanted to be brave! This is your chance to change your fate, to make a difference!_

“My poor Eurydice,” he spoke in hushed tones. “You’ve spent so long living in the shadows, jumping at every sound, enduring fitful, sleepless nights. A ship unmoored, reliant on the whims and goodwill of others.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “But not anymore. Now, you don’t have to hide. You don’t have to live in fear. You have a _choice_.”

He extended his arm, a small, green flame flickering to life. Power washed over her, tingling against her skin as a light rush of wind moved through the room.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Take my hand.”

_Blood on the hardwood floor, hunger and shadow._

_A Psalm, a prayer, a useless semicircle of salt._

She took a deep, shuddering breath. Worry and dread, relief and confusion surged in her as her hand trembled, pajama shirt rustling as she extended her arm.

_A moonlit piano, touch and melody._

_Cooking pots and the smell of spice and heartache that reaches beyond the grave._

Seconds became eons, inches stretched into miles as she drew closer, closer. There was no heat radiating from the green flame dancing on his palm, and a small, hopeful part of her wondered if it wouldn’t hurt at all.

_A music box and an arm around her waist, a silver dagger and a crooked smile._

_Flowers and books and notes._

The fire licked around her fingers, cool to the touch, caressing her skin. She moved through it, fascinated, in awe of the power this man wielded without a second thought.

_His lips on her scar._

His grin stretched inhumanly wide as she placed her hand in his, fingertips brushing along the stitching of his leather gloves.

_His hand on her throat._

“It’s a deal.”

Emerald light filled the room as the flame reared up, engulfing their hands, pouring liquid fire into her veins. A scream tore from her throat as she tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron. The flame grew brighter, so bright that she had to look away, vision clouding with tears as she burned alive.

A pulse of energy knocked the wind out of her, running along her arm up to her skull and down to her toes, and she swayed, unsteady. He released her and she stumbled backwards with a ragged breath, clutching her hand to her chest, expecting to see that her skin was charred and cracked but finding no visual evidence of the intense pain that still lingered.

His mouth was moving but she couldn’t hear him over the ringing in her ears. Black spots swam in her vision, the burgundy walls bleeding into grey as the room grew smaller, the walls closing in on her. She tried to speak, but the pain was too much, it was all too much, the world too narrow and sharp and—

* * *

.

..

…

Skin on skin.

A palm against her forehead.

A familiar melody, crackling and filtered.

Something solid against her back, something fluffy on top of her.

She let out a kitten-soft sigh as she snuggled into it, drinking in the smell of cedar and sandalwood and coffee.

“There she is…”

Lee blinked her bleary eyes. Red and grey blobs slowly came into focus, sharpening until she was greeted by Alastor’s smiling face, looking down at her. A jolt of terror ran through her as she sat bolt upright with a startled cry, the blanket falling from her torso. Sparks swarm in her vision, wooziness setting in as her sore muscles screamed at her. Her head tipped back as the world began to go grey again—

His arms wrapped around her, steadying her for a moment before easing her to lie back down on the couch.

“Easy now, darling…” he said by her ear. “You’ll hurt yourself if you’re not careful.”

“Wha…” Her mouth was like sandpaper, and she coughed as she tried to force the words out.

“Here,” he conjured a glass of ice water with a straw as he sat back down on his chair. She tried to sit up a little, propping herself up on her elbows so her upper back could rest against the arm of the couch, then gulped it down greedily.

“What,” another light cough, “what happened?” Her head felt like it was full of cotton.

“You passed out, cher,” he said, his words honeyed. “But I caught you.”

_Green light._

_Pain._

_Burn._

“How long…?”

“Only an hour or so. Nothing to worry about.” He ran his fingers through her hair, scraping lightly against her scalp, and she shivered. “I said I’d care for you, didn’t I?” There was a warmth in his voice, an uncharacteristic familiarity.

“I, um,” she stuttered, feeling awkward, “I should go—”

“Not a chance,” he cut her off. She must have looked panicked as he quickly added: “You just nearly fainted, my dear. I’m not letting you up until I know you’re well enough to stand on your own.” He drew the blanket back over her. “Are you still sore?” She nodded and he tutted, pressing his palm against her forehead. The skin there began to warm as he whispered some sort of spell, and her muscles relaxed as some of the pain and soreness leeched out of them.

“You were so brave for me,” he murmured. “The first deal is always the most painful, and you did very, very well.” He tilted his head at her. “You’re quite resilient, too. I’ve seen men twice your size rendered deaf and dumb for days after striking their first bargain.”

 _Days?!_ “Woulda been nice to know that before,” she mumbled.

“You didn’t ask,” he said with a grin, removing his palm. “Better?” She nodded and his smile widened. “Good.” He leaned back in his chair, pulling on his gloves. “Now, I think it’s high time we go public with our little arrangement, don’t you?”

She perked her head up. “But you just said Charlie couldn’t find out!”

“About our deal, yes. I have no issues with her knowing you are now under my protection as well as hers.” His mic staff appeared in his hand and he gave it a twirl. “Unless you have some other way of ensuring every scoundrel and sinner in Hell now knows who you belong to.”

“I don’t belong to anyone!” she bristled. “I didn’t sell you my soul!”

“Yes, yes,” he waved her protests away. “But that’s what they will assume. To the world at large, this is simple case of a desperate, frightened mortal signing herself away in exchange for safety. Only you and I know the true extent of our bargain, and I intend to keep it that way.”

“And the others? How are we going to explain this?”

He shrugged. “We’ll tell them that announcing we made a deal is simply our cover story to dissuade other demons from trying to steal you away, and that I’m really protecting you as an investment in my own ongoing entertainment. It’ll be an easy sell, especially given all the chaos your presence has caused as of late.”

“That won’t work.” She winced as she pushed herself into a sitting position, going slowly, the muscles in her back burning lightly in protest. “This already looks suspicious. As soon as word gets out that you’re selling human blood, they’ll put the pieces together.”

“On the contrary, darling,” he said with a grin. “I use discretion in all my deals. Should my clients wish to see the new goods I have on offer, they’ll have to sign a writ of confidentiality, magically and legally prohibiting them from speaking on the matter. So long as you and I are careful, there’s no chance of them finding out.”

“But what if they do? What if they start suspecting us?” _What if they kick me out_? she worried, fidgeting with the blanket. She wouldn’t last a minute on the streets, and she didn’t want to be sent away, whether it be to one of Charlie’s family homes or Alastor’s properties.

“You let me worry about that, dear. All you need to do is play the part of the grateful, hardworking employee. Do you think you can do that for me?”

She nodded, still unsure. It was a role she’d been playing all her life, and she knew it by heart. But could he really uphold his end of the bargain? Could he keep their arrangement secret, keep her safe?

“Very good.” He gave her what looked like a genuine smile. “That reminds me! I have a gift for you!” He extended his arm. “Your hand, please.”

There was a moment of hesitation before she did as he asked, her fingers still a bit shaky as she placed her hand in his.

“Now, do you prefer a ring or a bracelet?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“For your _gris-gris_ , cher.” He waved his hand and a silver ingot appeared on her palm, stamped with glowing red runes, as well as what looked like a small cloth bag. “To protect you in my absence.”

“Um… bracelet, I guess.”

“Excellent choice. Give me a moment.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes sliding shut as he tried to concentrate. Slowly, the ingot and bag began to shake on her palm, rising into the air, glowing faintly as he whispered under his breath. His chanting grew louder as the ingot started to liquify, flowing over the cloth bag like mercury. He snapped and the drenched bag changed shape, melting into the metal, the two seemingly incompatible ingredients becoming one. He twirled a finger and the metal flowed down in a ribbon, encircling her wrist, shimmering and solidifying into a silver bangle. It was ornately decorated, with filigree images of deer and roses encircling the outside and burgundy runes marking the inside edge.

“There!” he preened, clearly proud of his handiwork. “A good-luck charm, a ward against evil and, most importantly, a new home for a familiar face. Umbra!”

Lee jumped as her shadowy friend sprang up seemingly out of nowhere, waving her arm in greeting, her white eyes crinkled in delight as she stood beside him.

“I’ve instructed dear Umbra to be your personal guard. She’ll be living inside your bracelet from now on. All you need to do is call on her, and she’ll answer.”

“That’s… actually really nice of you,” she said, slightly puzzled by the gesture. “But couldn’t she just live in my shadow, like last time?”

“Not permanently,” he explained. “Unfortunately, Shades can only live without an anchor for a few days before they begin to disintegrate. Binding her to your own shadow would be a long, painful process, so this is a reasonable compromise.”

Her gaze flickered to her shadowy companion. “And she’s okay with this?”

Alastor barked out a laugh. “My dear, your concern for her is admirable, but you needn’t fret. She requested this assignment personally.” Umbra nodded vigorously, letting out a pleased purr. Her blobby arm grew fingers, and she reached up, tracing a few invisible letters in the air.

“SAFE NOW,” she wrote. “PROMISE.” The shade tilted her head in his direction slightly, as if to imply she would be keeping her safe _from_ Alastor as well as for Alastor. 

“Oh,” Lee said, putting the pieces together, giving the shadow a small smile. “Thanks, then.”

“You’re quite welcome.” He leaned back in his chair, dismissing her newfound guardian with a wave of his hand. Umbra winked and melted back into the floor. “Now, how about we tell the world the good news?” He cleared his throat and tapped on his microphone, its eye sliding open, a faint red glow emanating from it as he silently counted down on his fingers.

Three… two... o—

_“GOOD EVENING, PENTAGRAM CITY!”_ His radio voice was back with a vengeance and she jumped, covering her ears at his boisterous display. “This is your host, Alastor,” he continued, a bit quieter but with the same enthusiasm, “coming to you live with a very special announcement and a very special guest!”

“You see,” he leaned into the mic, adopting an exaggerated stage whisper, “there’s been some _excitement_ in the news lately, particularly regarding the presence of a new, unclaimed human here in Hell. Tonight, I’m proud to bring you an exclusive interview with the dame at the center of this media frenzy!” He swung the microphone at her, making her flinch as it came to rest just inches under her nose. “Why don’t you introduce yourself, darling?

“You mean, like, right now?” she asked, bewildered.

He laughed. “Yes, right now! We’re live on the air, sweetheart!”

“Oh.” _Shit._ “Uh, well, hi… everybody… I’m Lee. I’m not sure why I’m here,” a thought occurred to her, “but I just want to get home, so if anyone knows how—”

“Ah yes!” he cut her off, bringing the microphone back to his mouth. “Such a strange, tragic tale! Dear listeners, it appears our esteemed guest has suffered from a cosmic mishap, ripping her soul from her body and trapping her here in Hell!” A dramatic piano riff. “I know what you’re thinking: ‘Alastor, that’s absolute nonsense!’ And indeed, when I first met this little spitfire, I was inclined to agree. However, evidence supporting the veracity of her story was quickly brought to my attention—”

_A ravenous smile and a bloody nose—_

“—and I can confirm, dear listeners, that she is in fact telling the truth! A mortal soul, separated from her living body, seemingly unprecedented but not, apparently, impossible!” Startled ooohs and murmurs came from his invisible studio audience as he turned the mic back to her. “Tell me, my dear, what was it like, finding yourself in such a strange new world?”

“Terrifying.” The answer fell from her lips without a second thought. He waved his hand, encouraging her to continue. “Before I fell down here, I thought Hell was having to work a double shift on Black Friday.” He grinned as a light smattering of laughter played. “But this? This is a million, _billion_ times worse.”

“Take us back to that day,” he said, “What’s the last thing you can remember from the world above?”

“Well,” she felt a flash of nerves as memories came rushing back, “I had a job interview, and I was rushing to get there on time. I was crossing the street and then, _bam!_ The next thing I knew I was in the hospital, looking at my own body while they tried to revive me.” He nodded politely, attentive. “I think I got hit by a car. It was awful.”

“For a while I was floating in the dark. I could hear bits and pieces of people, doctors, talking, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t see. It was as if I didn’t have a body at all.” She picked at an errant thread. “There was no sense of time, so I don’t know if I was only there for a few seconds, a few days, or even longer. Then there were… I think they were whispers of some sort, I don’t know, I could’ve just imagined it.”

“And then you found yourself cast into the fiery depths?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Pretty much.”

For all his obvious flaws, Alastor was an excellent interviewer. He guided their conversation easily, seamlessly transitioning between topics, letting her speak without rambling and, in a surprisingly considerate gesture, changing the subject whenever he sensed she was feeling a bit overwhelmed. By the time they were wrapping things up, the blazing fire had dimmed into something toasty and warm.

“And now,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “I believe we have one more thing to share with our audience. Shall you do the honors, or shall I?”

His smug tone made a flare of irritation spark in her. “You go ahead.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure you’ve just been on tenterhooks wondering what exactly merited this most unusual interview, especially in the middle of the night.” His eyes glittered with delight. “Well, unfortunately for our mortal guest, her time in Hell has been rather difficult.” Sad violin music began to play. “This poor little belle has gone from spending the night in the gutter, to hiding away from the world, to being hunted down and harmed in her own adopted home.” A chorus of “awws” and murmurs of concern. “And while the spectacle has been rather entertaining, as of late the threats on her life have taken a dangerous, even lecherous turn, threats that I as a gentleman simply cannot let stand.”

_“The angry ones are always the most fun to break in.”_

She shuddered as dread crawled up her spine, trying to shake off the memory.

“Therefore, out of the kindness of my heart, I offered her a deal, a deal which she graciously accepted: her soul in exchange for my protection. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

_What the fuck?!_

She was about to protest when he gave her a knowing look, mouthing the words “ _play along.”_

“Um… yes…” she said quietly. He grinned, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Yes indeed! And as my property, I expect her to be treated with the gentility and respect a young lady in her position deserves. Any affront to her will be perceived as an affront to me personally.” There was a definite shift in mood as his smile turned sinister, predatory. The room felt colder, and his shadow grinned up at her from its place on the floor. “And just so we’re clear…”

Her hair stood on end as he grew monstrous before her: antlers elongating, eyes shifting into swirling dials, hands stretching into razor-sharp claws.

“If any of you vile, subhuman, repugnant wretches _dare_ lay a hand on my little darling…” His voice was lower now, distorted. “ _I will hunt you down and skin you alive. I will gut you like a fish, tear off your limbs, stuff them inside you, and make you watch as I eat your heart.”_

Hot panic flooded her veins as the shadows in the room sharpened, growing eyes and mouths and claws, cackling and chittering as their master let his darker side come to the fore.

 _“And then,”_ he continued, “ _I will find **your** dear ones, the ones you hold in high regard, and subject them to unimaginable cruelty, pain and terror their feeble minds cannot even fathom, until they hate you, until they loathe you, until they are baying for your blood.”_ Black tar dripped from his mouth as the dials in his eyes spun faster and faster _. “And after I have destroyed any semblance of love or care they once held for you, I will let them serve as my audience as I inflict those same tortures upon you tenfold, over and over and over again, until you **beg** for death.”_

_Shadows punching through chests, showers and spurts of blackened blood, a head ripped clean off—_

She pressed her back into the couch, trying to create more distance between them, white-knuckled fists gripping the cushions. Her jaw clenched as she tried to keep from crying out, biting back the rising horror in her. His eyes fell on her and he grinned, morphing back into his normal state with a faint _pop_ and a crackle of static.

“But then again, you’re already dead, aren’t you, hahaha!” he said cheerily, accompanied by a laugh track. “I hope you all enjoyed this impromptu interview, let’s give our guest a round of applause!” Wild cheers and whoops played as she gaped at him. “Thank you, thank you! This is Alastor, signing off! Have a good evening, dear listeners, and as always, _stay tuned_ …” He tapped the mic once more, its red glow fading as it’s eye slid shut.

Lee sat in stunned silence, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Well!” he said, letting his radio voice drop. “I’d say that went swimmingly, don’t you think, dearest?”

“Uh,” she swallowed thickly, her instincts screaming at her to _get out of there_ , “y-yeah.” She moved slowly, rising from her place on the couch, still a bit unsteady. “You, uh, you were lying when you said I sold you my soul, right?”

“But of course.” There was still a bit of a sinister twist to his grin.

“Oh. Good. Good,” she muttered. “I’m gonna… go then…” She turned on her heel, making a beeline for the door, only to smack straight into him as he appeared in her path.

“Not so fast, darling!” He wagged his finger at her, as if he were scolding a naughty child. “I still have to bind your tongue.”

He snapped and a bead of blood pooled on his gloved finger, seeping up from the skin below. His other hand tilted her chin up as he smeared the blood across her bottom lip, murmuring some sort of spell. A crawling, shuddering feeling broke out on her skin as the smell of iron filled her lungs. As soon as he was done, she tried to wipe it off with her sleeve, but her caught her by the wrist, handing her a handkerchief instead.

“That’s so gross,” she muttered, wiping away the nastiness as she took a few instinctive steps back.

“It’s the cost of doing business, I’m afraid,” he said with a grin, not sounding at all apologetic. He extended his hand, waving the handkerchief out of existence, and crooked a finger at her. “My turn. Come here, sweetheart.”

“Why?” she asked, suspicious.

“I need a drop or two from you for the spell, dear,” he said, his tone pedantic.

_Hungry eyes and mouths, slashing, clawing, biting—_

“Can’t you use your own?” She tried to keep her voice even, attempting to conceal her rising panic. He’d let the mask he wore slip, giving her another taste of his true nature, and it had terrified her. The last thing she wanted was to have to bleed in front of him.

“I’m afraid not. You’re the one who wanted my tongue bound as well, and the spell only works with the other party’s blood.” He tiled his head to the side, as if he were examining her. “Come now, don’t be scared,” he simpered. “It'll only take a minute.”

“I’m not scared,” she lied through her teeth.

“And what did I tell you about lying?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m n-not,” she protested, trying to be brave even as a stutter crept in. It was clear he was enjoying this, and she didn't want to give his more sadistic side any more ammunition.

“Oh yes, you are. You’re an open book, my darling,” he drawled. "In fact, I find your little tells rather interesting…”

There was a strange charge to the air as he stepped closer, a crackling and a buzzing that put her on edge, his movements agile and fluid. She stood frozen, rooted to the floor as something deep and primal in her whispered for her to run, to flee from this man, this _predator_.

_Screams through speakers and laughter and blood and bone and eyes like dials—_

“When you lie, your shoulders rise.” he continued. “Not much, but when you know what to look for, it’s clear as day. You also sound different, a touch shallower, with lighter breaths.” Another step. “It’s the opposite of when you’re upset. Your voice thickens then, wavering ever so slightly, and you fidget, taking out your frustrations on your poor clothes.” He reached down, gently pulling her fingers away from the hem of her pajama shirt. “Though you also do that when you’re nervous,” he said with a sly smile.

“But fear,” he took her by the wrist, the leather of his gloves cool on her skin, “fear is the easiest to spot. There’s the obvious, of course: your breathing speeds up, as does your little heart.” There was a mischievous twist to his smile. “I can hear it now, pounding away in your chest.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he drew even closer, her mind a muddled, worried mess as he loomed over her. Why couldn’t she move? Why couldn’t she _speak?!_

“Personally,” he purred, his voice lower than she expected, “I like the subtler signs the most. The little things one would miss if they weren’t paying attention.” He held up her hand, turning it slowly, inspecting her. “For one, your tensing muscles help you stand up straight, making you look just a hair taller. And you get tiny tremors in those delicate little fingers of yours. See?” She curled them instinctively, trying to pull away from him. “Ah, ah, ah,” he scolded, pulling a finger free of her clenched fist. “Not so fast, sweet girl. I still need to fulfill my end of our bargain. Hold still.”

A hiss of pain escaped her as a metal nail swiped across her fingertip, leaving a small cut behind. His eyes darkened as he inhaled, shadows dancing along the walls as sharpening antlers stretched from his skull. She jumped as his own shadow peeled away from the floor, it’s Cheshire smile curling at the edges.

_Cries for mercy falling on deaf ears, claws ripping his victims to shreds, ripping me apart, oh no oh no oh no—_

“Fear smells warm against the skin,” he said, a hint of distortion creeping in, “like chili peppers and smoked paprika.” He whispered the incantation once more, and she flinched as her finger met his lips. She stood transfixed as the ruby-red smear spread across the grey, filling the tiny valleys and lines, her fingernail barely breaching the seam of his mouth. His tongue soon followed, tracing the path she’d drawn, humming as he savored the taste of her. She tried once more to pull away, but his shadow curled around her, its icy arms wrapping around her waist, pressing her back against the hard planes of its chest.

 _“And it tastes just_ divine _,”_ he crooned, his voice now layered and rich, static mixed with the suggestion of something sultry. _“Like bitter chocolate and bourbon.”_ He pressed her finger against his lips once more, eyes hooded and blazing. His tongue peeked out, warm and wet, stinging her cut with a tiny, tentative lick, and he shuddered in delight. _“Simply exquisite.”_ Goosebumps broke out on her flesh as his shadow nuzzled her neck, purring affectionately.

_So close to his teeth sharp teeth gonna bite me gonna_ eat _me—_

“Please,” she stuttered, a raw, broken thing. “Please, Alastor, I—” Her throat began to close as her lips quivered, her composure shattering as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m _scared!”_

 _"I know, cher, I know,”_ he cooed, pulling a band-aid out of thin air. _“But there is no undoing what is done.”_ He placed a quick peck of a kiss against the cut before covering it, as if in thanks. The arms of his shadow disappeared, only to be replaced by his own as he pulled her flush against his chest, fine cotton and silk pressing against her.

_Tight so tight gonna crush me gonna_ kill _me tear me apart no no no no—_

_“Reste trankil,”_ His voice was barely above a whisper, and she couldn’t tell whether he was speaking more to her or to himself. _“Mo konn_ _é to_ _pœr, mé to gin pou f_ _é fas li. To fé un traka, é y na un kons_ _ékens pou tou.”_ She could feel his words as he spoke them, rumbling in his chest, the distortion starting to fade as the smell of her blood dissipated. _“Y va nan doul_ _é, é shagrin, m_ _é mo va jam_ _é bandonn_ _é twa. Mo promét, cheri._ ” He radiated warmth as his fingers danced up her spine, threading through her hair as her heart hammered in her ears.

“I… I—” she hiccuped, unable to force the words out.

“Shhh…” He cradled the back of her head as if she were made of porcelain, exerting only the barest amount of pressure. “Please don’t cry, precious.” His other hand began tracing its own route, traveling from the small of her back up to between her shoulder blades and down again in long, languid strokes. “It pains me to see you so distraught.”

_No no he’s a liar he likes it when I hurt he’s gonna kill me no please no—_

“I understand that you’re upset, and that you may be having second thoughts, but there’s no turning back now. And while I cannot deny my nature,” there was a strange lit to his voice, a constriction and melancholy that she couldn’t place, “I am still a man of standards. I’ll follow our contract to the letter, take only what you have agreed to give me. Nothing more, nothing less.” He spoke in hushed tones, no doubt trying to soothe her. “The road ahead will be difficult, but I will not leave you to dwell in torment and misery. We’re bound together now, you and I.” Gloved fingers carded through her hair, clement and light. “I’ll be good to you, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’ll show you mercy. And if I do break you,” a sob escaped her at that, “I promise to put you back together.”

“Don’t—” The room was spinning. “I c-can’t—” She couldn’t get enough air, her breath coming faster and faster, icy dread creeping up her spine.

“Yes, you can, darling,” he urged. His grip loosened slightly as he leaned down, tipping her chin upwards. “You are stronger than you think, _ma belle_.” Her heart clenched as her timorous gaze met his, taking in the starburst shades of red in his irises, the pores on his cheeks, the coarse, wavy strands that fell out of place as he looked down at her. “I’ll keep you safe, cher. I may be cruel, but I protect what is mine.”

_Close too close oh no please help me—_

Something shifted then, and the air grew heavier as static buzzed through his hands, tickling the back of her jaw as he cradled her face. His eyes darkened, pupils widening as she trembled before him.

“And make no mistake, dearest…” His shadow loomed over his shoulder, it’s smile splitting its face as it licked its lips. More shadows rose from the floor, tendrils that brushed against her, their touch feather-light and exploratory, almost innocent. Red symbols and sigils faded in and out, floating around them like fireflies as his grin stretched into something fearsome, full of avarice and _teeth._

_Oh God, what have I done?!_

_"̵̡̖̭̗̱̜̍̓̊̓̑̔̕͠Y̶̨̢̪̤̟͓̹͈̺͍̲͖̳̩͍̝͆̌͜o̶̢̧͉̱̮̖̗̺͈͗̽̎͜u̶͕͎̦͙̭͚̬͔̪͋̆̈̿̓̅̋̽̂͝͝'̸̡̨̦̩͖͚̘̹͈̱̝͖̠͕̍̌̑̈̀̈̈́̽͋̀̓͆̎̈͊̐͘r̶̨̠̻̦͕͔͕̝̻̞̬̫̈̅̋͋̅̃͋͗̈̑̉͊͗͜͜ͅȇ̷̡̛͓̼̤̩͍̖͍͈̔̅̏̂̒̍͌́͜͝͝ ̴̨̝̰̻̝̻͇͉̮̰͎̳͙͈̻̮̓̾̈́̎ **m̷̢̛͇̟͈̱̦̖̳̯̘̠̘̭͕̘̻̘̏̇͑̐̄̄̇̾̋̐̾͆̇͒͐̀i̸̠̫͇̩̩̞̬͍͖͎̠͇̮͌̈́̍͐̈́͜͠ņ̵̡͍̻̜̱͔̣̙̪̮̘͒͂̓̃̒̐̔̒̈̓̊͘͠͝ͅe̶̛͔̓̑͊̋͊͂̿͗̕ ̸̼͕̖̲̝̹̤̝͈̒̐͋͑͆̆͘͝** ņ̵̭̈͒̑̉̐̔̚̕͝͠ọ̴̽̐̐w̷̳͑͂͗̏̄̏̏́͝͠͝.̷̧̨̨̬͎̳̭͈͇̩͈̻̱̭̦͕̩̄̾̐̓͑̈͑͐̆̎"̵̞̠̻̰͖̤̟̈́̉̓͊͑͆̉̿̋̈̕̚_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kouri-Vini Translation: "Keep still. I know you’re scared, but you have to cope with it. You made a deal, and there’s a consequence for everything. There will be pain, and sorrow, but I will never abandon you. I promise, my dear."
> 
> (It took me two hours to translate that and get it mostly grammatically correct lol)
> 
> And just like that, we've reached the end of Act One!!!
> 
> What will become of our poor heroine now that she and Alastor have made a deal? How will Charlie and Vaggie react? What about Angel, the V-Squad, Lucifer himself? All that and more will be answered in Act Two, dear readers, as our protagonist ventures outside the hotel to explore more of Hell, determined to find her way home by any means necessary! 
> 
> In all seriousness, I hope you enjoyed this one. This took me a good three weeks to write, and it ended up being way longer than I anticipated, mainly because I wanted to get fancy and pretentious with things like ~callbacks~ and ~symbolism~ and stuff. Still, this was super fun for me to plot out! :D
> 
> Tomorrow (2/24) marks the start of my hiatus. I hate to leave you all for so long, but I hope this was a suitable resolution to Act One, something you can re-read in my absence. I've been so humbled and honored to hear how many of you truly love this story, and it brings me so much joy to know I can successfully entertain hundreds (!!!!!) of people with just a few clicks of my keyboard. I've been reading fic for years, and wasn't sure how I'd be received, but now I'm so, so, glad I took the plunge!
> 
> If y'all want something to read in the meantime while I'm gone, I highly recommend "Rabbit Blood" by Hazbian! It's criminally underrated in the fandom, IMHO, and has dynamic OCs, a fantastically sadistic Al, and for those of you who prefer, ahem, spicier content, there's some of that too. Give it a look, and if you like it, maybe leave a comment saying I sent ya! ;) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148749/chapters/60936799
> 
> Another extra spicy recommendation I'm sure some of you are already familiar with is "Cradles" by EnterWittyNameHere and NotBrooke. The plot's good, there's great imagery, they have a compelling human!Alastor portrayal, and there are plenty of moments that tug at the heartstrings: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25685644/chapters/62361826
> 
> Before I go, I'd like to give a big shoutout to all of you who've left a comment over the course of Act One, especially my regular commenters. I adore hearing from you all and reading your theories, reactions, suggestions, jokes and analyses (especially your analyses, lol). They really make my day! 
> 
> I'd also like to give special thanks to my non-native English speaking readers! It's amazing that the power of the internet has caused my silly story to spread so far, and I'm so grateful that you've taken the time and energy to read my work, especially given that English is your second (or third, or fourth) language. Y'all are awesome, and I appreciate you! :)
> 
> While I'm gone, I'd like to pose an optional challenge to you all to do something brave yourselves! Write that one-shot you've been too scared to post, draw that picture you've had stuck in your head for months, learn that song, make that video, send that text, do something that makes you happy! And, if you feel so inclined, feel free to link your work in the comments section, so we can all appreciate it! 
> 
> I love you all so, so much, and I'll miss you all terribly. But please know I'll be thinking of you when I'm gone, and that more chapters are already in the works! :D
> 
> See you in April,
> 
> Regina <3


End file.
